


So throw me a line.

by devilscut



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Angst, Blow Jobs, Come Marking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hurt, M/M, Mates, Oral Sex, References to Docking, References to Knotting, References to Mpreg, Rimming, Scenting, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, Texting, True Mates, mate bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:43:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilscut/pseuds/devilscut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is taking Cora and leaving Beacon Hills after the events of 'Lunar Ellipse'.  There is one person he needs to see before he goes and that's Stiles.  They are friends of a sort and maybe more, but Derek is determined to leave and let Stiles resume as normal a life as possible without him in it.  'Goodbye' is easier said than done and before the night is over and the moon sets with feelings running high, it's not possible to let go without intimacy of both the emotional and physical kind.  After 4 months apart, Derek returns to Beacon Hills after finding out that Stiles isn't doing too well without him and that Peter may be sniffing around.  Stiles and Derek will have to learn to overcome their self-esteem issues if they are to become a true mated pair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been busy writing the sequel to another fic of mine, however, after seeing 'Lunar Ellipse' I was blown away by the idea of Derek and Cora leaving. Then I heard this song by "The Temper Trap" on the same day and it was as if they were singing about Derek in the chorus and I was inspired.
> 
> Trembling hands - The Temper Trap
> 
> So throw me a line  
> Somebody out there help me  
> I'm on my own  
> I'm on my own  
> Throw me a line  
> Afraid that I have come here  
> To win you again  
> With trembling hands
> 
> Hear me now make me whole  
> Hear me now make me whole
> 
> Unbeta'ed - but tweaked, edited, revised etc etc.. by me for better or worse.

“I can’t.” Derek says the words, his lips and ever present stubble on his strong jawline, the only features visible from where he’s buried his face in his hands. 

Stiles can feel his heart splinter into a million pieces as he watches the other man, who is hunched over and perched on the edge of Stiles’ bed, as though ready to spring to his feet and leap out the bedroom window. Who’s to say he won’t?

“Please.. Derek.. stay.” Stiles wants so desperately to say stay with me.. stay for me.. stay because of me.. just stay. But he doesn’t. 

He’s disgusted with himself. Too chickenshit to tell the man in front of him how much he lo.. cares for him. God, it’s one little four letter word and he can’t even bring himself to think it, let alone say it out loud in relation to Derek Hale. 

Stiles staggers from the knot of emotion that feels all twisted up in his chest, letting his desk prop him upright. His hands tremble as he runs them through his hair, he feels wired up and a little depressed all at the same time and it’s confusing as hell. Where’s his Adderall? Maybe he should take a tablet or two or three.. maybe not stop, because Derek’s leaving and Stiles survived dying in the ice bath but he doesn’t think he can survive this.

Derek’s hands are pressed so tightly to his face that it’s pure blackness that he sees before him. He’d better get used to it, this is going to be his life now. Away from Beacon Hills, away from the pack and.. away from Stiles. The future looks so bleak that he can’t quite stifle the hitching breath he draws in, but he can’t stay. He’s not losing someone so close to him ever again and he so very nearly did this time, it makes him want to throw up.

He drops his hands from his face. The light, after all-consuming darkness, makes him want to squint but he’s been around other wolves too long to give away any weakness and keeps his expression carefully neutral, not aware to the teenager watching him it looks hard, even cold. When the blurriness goes and his vision returns to normal, he sees Stiles leaning against his desk, laptop by his hip. It’s such a familiar sight that it takes Derek a moment to recognise the pained devastation etched on the teenager’s face and when he does it makes his chest ache.

“Stiles, you died.” The words gouge huge rending scars through his heart and soul. They may be invisible, but the pain is still excrutiating. That he hadn’t even been there when this boy was dying makes him want to howl down the moon with his anger, his fear and rend and tear death itself with his very claws for trying to take what is his. And that there is the problem, he thinks. He’s starting to think of Stiles as his in a totally primal and possessive way.

“I’m stronger than you think.” Stiles whispers the words he wants to shout, but he’s having trouble speaking now, his throat feels tight and closed. “I came back.” He shuts his eyes, the anguish on the older man’s face is simply too painful to bear witness to.

“After 16 hours.” Derek stands on legs that feel like jelly. He needs to go, has to go. Just being here with Stiles is heaven that he’s alive and hell because he’s got to leave him behind. 

Has to leave him so he can be safe. So the others can be safe, Scott and Allison died as well and it’s all because of him. The mistakes he’s made make him cringe inside. 

Twice, he’s been deceived by a soft voice and pretty face and it’s nearly cost him everything. The strange thing is both of them remind him of Stiles in some way. Kate because her mouth was almost as sarcastic and funny and Jennifer was similar in looks and slightly skewed in behaviour, he’d felt almost out of control around her and it hadn’t been natural, far from it considering her magic. They were pretty but Stiles is.. Stiles is beautiful.

He’s a coward, knows it, because he can’t bear to lose anyone else because it will literally destroy him, will finish the job started by the deaths of his family and then Erica and Boyd. If anything happens to Stiles he will simply cease to exist.

“It’s my fault you were put in such a position.” They will be safer with him gone, he tells himself that, has to believe it.

“You are kidding me, aren’t you?” Stiles can only gape at the sheer arrogance of the wolf in front of him. “Let me tell you something Mr Derek-it’s all about me-Hale… it’s not.” 

Stiles gets angrier at the stony facade the other man is presenting, his obvious disbelief in what Stiles is saying simply fanning the flames. “So no one else is responsible? Not Deucalion, not the Darach.. not me?”

“What do you mean? You’re not responsible for any of this mess.” Derek scowls fiercely. Stiles is too naïve, too innocent to know what he’s saying. Always looking for the best in people, always trying to find an upside when in this case there’s none to be found.

“If I had told my Dad earlier what was happening with the Darach, about me running with wolves then maybe he wouldn’t have been taken so easily. He would’ve been on guard.” Stiles is almost proud of himself, he sounds so reasonable that he wants to run screaming into the night, because Derek is so stubbornly certain that he is the cause of so much misfortune it’s frightening to see the lengths he will go to, to justify that reasoning. Freud would have a field day with one guilt-ridden werewolf with monumental trust issues.

“This doesn’t change anything Stiles. Cora and I will be leaving in the morning and I.. I just wanted to say goodbye.” Derek flexes his hands, the impulse to grab Stiles and draw him into a farewell hug is almost irresistible. Almost.

His eyes are starting to burn and he can’t look at Derek anymore because it hurts, god how it hurts. Stiles turns his face away, closing his eyes.

“Are you coming back?” He’s able to choke the words out, past a throat clogged with held-back tears and snot and overwhelming grief.

“I don’t know.” When Stiles lets out a small gasp of pain, Derek wishes he’d lied, but for all his faults he can’t. Especially, not to Stiles. They have saved each other’s lives over and over. This loud, flailing and sarcastic teenager has burrowed his way beneath what Derek had believed was his thick skin and straight into his hearts. His human and his wolf one.

The wolf has always known, right from that very first meeting in the middle of the woods between three scared young men. Oh how he’d been terrified back then. Laura, his big sister, missing and a rogue wolf on the loose and then he’d caught a scent in the woods, one that had made him run, heart pounding, trying to track it down. Needing to claim whatever, whoever was producing that intoxicating scent. When he’d gotten closer and realised it was the thin, almost gawky looking teenager, it took everything he had in him not to pounce, because he’d also got a whiff of another scent on the boy he recognised. The Sheriff. 

That’s no longer a barrier now, the Sheriff knows everything and the wolf has wanted Stiles for a very long time. Now that Derek’s human side has finally acknowledged the need, the wolf is raking its metaphysical claws through Derek’s restraint, demanding that he do something right now, like claim his mate. 

Damn it. He has to leave right now before he does do.. something. Something could be touching, kissing, licking, rubbing.. the choice is endless and Derek’s starting to sweat because he’s got a great imagination and Stiles scent has always drawn him, tempted and teased him enough that it has become normal for him to only take shallow breaths through his mouth whenever they are near each other. It’s half the reason that he hardly speaks to him or if he does it’s through clenched teeth.

Stiles possesses a unique scent combination of spiced oranges dipped in vanilla it’s exotic and makes Derek’s mouth water even though he’s only scenting the barest amount possible while still being able to breathe. He knows that Stiles takes medication, Adderall, which has filtered through and taints the sweetness with a slightly cloying chemical odour like fuel after it’s been ignited.

“Goodbye.. Stiles.” Derek feels a piercing pain shoot through his chest as he turns away and carries on walking to the open window when he hears rapid footsteps behind him and a hard body slams into his back, arms wrapping around him in a fierce hold.

Stiles buries his head into Derek’s back, in between his shoulder blades right where he knows the triskelion tattoo lies. The leather jacket is soft and supple against his cheek and if it’s slightly damp to match his weeping eyes when he lifts his head up a moment later he’s not going to tell. He’s just glad that Derek’s standing there and not fighting him off or telling him to stop being an idiot.

With his arms wrapped around Derek’s muscular torso it’s only natural that Stiles’ hands end up sliding against the warm gray cotton Henley that he’s wearing beneath the unzipped jacket. The fabric clings and beneath Stiles’ seeking fingertips he can feel each dip and ridge of Derek’s abs that have haunted his dreams, both sleeping and awake for what seems forever now. 

When Derek releases a deep sigh, head dropping forward and places his large hand over the top of Stiles’ and presses it hard against his flesh, Stiles’ breath stutters and his heart pounds, rattling his ribcage with its ferocity. He starts to pant like he’s running a marathon.

Derek can’t take anymore. Stiles is touching him and it burns through his shirt until his slender fingers feel like a brand. He turns and gathers the teenager up into his arms and then somehow, Derek doesn’t even know how, he’s got Stiles trapped between the bedroom wall and himself. He still retains enough sense to keep some distance between their lower halves, knowing there are limits to even his self control.

It reminds him of the first time he visited Stiles’ bedroom, he had stolen in and surprised, or rather horrified, the younger man particularly when his father knocked on the door. Even back then he’d been so tempted to kiss him, just like now. Derek’s eyes flash, back and forth, between Stiles surprised amber ones and his lips that are parted into a succulent tempting O shape. 

“Stiles let me.. just once.. I just need to taste..” Derek lowers his head slowly, giving Stiles every opportunity to push him away feeling a thrill ripple through him when he doesn’t, just tilts his head slightly to give Derek better access to all parts of his face and neck. Derek presses his lips softly against Stiles’ trying to control it, trying to control himself. He can do this he tells himself, even as burning flames flicker over his lips and he realises that as gentle and chaste as he’s trying to be there is an incredible desire to ravage and devour the boy before him which he’s barely keeping in check. 

“Need to taste you.. before I go.” He murmurs against Stiles’ lips, gently parting them with his own. Derek slips the tip of his tongue into the wet heat of Stiles mouth and he doesn’t know who groans louder, Stiles because he’s inexperienced and everything feels good or Derek because he’s just got an all too intimate taste of Stiles and if he smelt good, he tastes even better. 

What Derek doesn’t know is he’s just waved a red flag to a bull. Stiles realises that if Derek’s going to leave Beacon Hills indefinitely, this might be the only chance he ever gets to kiss the wolf the way he wants to, the way he needs to. The way he’s dreamt of. 

He surges forward, teeth clashing, as he covers Derek’s mouth with his own, pressing hard and wide open. It’s innocence and desperation all at the same time and Derek realises he’s a fool he has no control, no resistance at all. Stiles is all wet heat and slick, darting tongue pressing deep into Derek’s mouth and he groans in anguished need, before he’s tangling his own tongue with the flickering, gliding one that is Stiles’.

Stiles is in heaven and what’s that noise. Oh it’s him whimpering. Derek’s oh so hard body is pressed against him and he can feel every ridge, muscle and tendon while he’s being kissed with such hunger that Stiles unknowingly, unwittingly surrenders to Derek. He cedes all control of his rational mind to the simplistic primal hindbrain that compels him to grind his aching swollen cock against the older man’s, frantically seeking the friction that he craves. 

He’s three parts conflicted, the cock he’s grinding against for starters is huge. It’s long, the fat head poking over the top of Derek’s jeans but still beneath his t-shirt and it’s thick, the spread of it bulging out the front too. Stiles wants it, every delicious inch, while at the same time being awed by its dimensions and plain out and out scared too. He’s a virgin and while he know’s that Derek would never deliberately hurt him, it’s still fucking huge and he gets the feeling that Derek is a natural born top. What a surprise. 

Derek could take Stiles now, the teenager is so lost to sensation and he grips the boys hips hard controlling his movements, denying him the wild headlong rush he is seeking so urgently. Derek pumps his hips into Stiles’ and savours the crazed moans that escape between the hungry, sucking, drugging kisses they’re exchanging. His wolf is keening in his ear, instinct is demanding that he claim Stiles, that he fuck him every which way possible until the boy can’t deny, won’t want to, that he is Derek’s. 

Derek wants it so bad he’s shaking, but he’s leaving and he can’t risk it, because he suspects that if he even takes Stiles once, he’s never ever going to let him go. He’ll mate him and knot him and that will bind them together forever and that’s not what he wants for Stiles. He wants him to be safe and there’s no way that’s going to happen if he’s trapped in a relationship with Derek. Relationship is too tame a word to use if they become mates, everything is more. More intense, more feeling, more need, more desire. Once bound they could never part, they would always need the close contact, the intimacy that the mate bond brings.

“Derek.. please..” Stiles head is rolling back and forth against the wall as Derek buries his face into the crook of the teenager’s neck and shoulder. “God.. I need you.. Derek.. Derek..” Stiles is chanting his name like it’s a prayer and Derek feels like he’s going to explode and he’s frantically rutting against Stiles. It’s all too much, he can smell the orange and vanilla that belongs to Stiles and the burning heat of his body pressed hard against his own. Derek’s cock is throbbing and pulsing in his too tight jeans and he’s waited and wanted this boy for so long, to hear him beg and call out his name is his undoing. He comes.

Stiles trembles as he feels Derek thrust against him, even harder than before, and he knows he’s close. Once, twice and the third time is when Derek thrusts and holds still as heat spills over his groin. Derek’s neck arc’s back and he’s howling his ecstasy to the night, the sound rolling and echoing around his bedroom, imprinting into the very walls. The exposed column of tanned flesh is too close and too hard to resist and Stiles tilts his head forward and starts biting and nipping at the taut cords.

Derek stiffens and he’s growling and the vibrations carry through his chest and into Stiles where he is pressed against him. Stiles is amazed to realise that Derek is coming a second time and it’s all because of him, the biting and nipping is enough to drag another orgasm out of him. Derek has stopped howling, mainly because he’s panting so hard, his electric blue eyes ablaze.

“Derek.” Stiles sighs his name wistfully. He wants so badly, aches for it, aches for him. “I need you.. I love you.” Stiles can’t even find the energy to blush so he just closes his eyes. He’s just told Derek Hale he loves him.

“Stiles.” His name is a rumble of thunder, it’s compelling and he finds that he’s opening his eyes to meet the searching scrutiny of Derek’s. His pelvis feels achy and sore where Derek’s fingers have gripped him so tightly, but it’s the good kind. 

Derek reaches down and flicks open the top button on Stiles’ trousers and tugs the zip down, reaches in and pulls out Stiles’ cock. Derek is surprised to see that Stiles’ isn’t exactly small either, not as long as Derek but still above average and it’s fat. He’s practically drooling, the mushroom tipped head would stretch his mouth nice and wide he decides, but it’s too risky, he knows himself and his wolf too well, he wouldn’t stop there, so he starts to move his hand up and down the fat length. Thumb flicking over the weeping head, smearing pre-cum all over. 

The cool air and hot hand on him is such a contrast that Stiles’ whole body starts to spasm uncontrollably and he’s pushing in and out of Derek’s grip. The sensation of another person’s hand on that most intimate part of him is almost too much and he’s crying it’s so good. Derek croons softly in comfort, watching with blazing blue eyes as the tears spill from the corners of his eyes and with the way his head is tilted back against the wall, they start to run into the sweat slick hair at his temples, but before they can Derek quickly swipes his tongue along the delicate skin and drinks down Stiles' tears. 

Derek flicks his thumb over the head, catching on the gaping slit, a bubble of pre-cum smearing and then Derek nuzzles his neck, tongue lashing the taut cords before delicately nipping and holding his adam’s apple between fangs that have appeared out of nowhere. The pleasure and threat are such a delicious contrast that it’s over before it’s even begun and Stiles is coming. Derek is still stroking him and Stiles didn’t even know his body could actually produce so much fluid, it’s just pumping out of his dick until he feels like his very guts have been turned inside out with pleasure and he’s can’t stop moaning.

Stiles’ legs give way and before he can collapse totally Derek swings him up into his arms all too easily. He carries him to his bed and gently lays him down, before going to the bathroom. He cleans himself up, because two orgasms later and the inside of his jeans and cotton boxers are a helluva mess. He grabs a cloth and rinses it thoroughly in warm water. He returns to quickly and efficiently wipe the tear stains off Stiles’ face, although he does tend to dawdle around the smattering of brown moles that mark the boy’s jawline as though they are Derek’s own personal Stiles’ dot-to-dot.

Where he doesn’t dawdle is when he cleans Stiles’ groin. The brush of fabric makes Stiles cock twitch, given half a chance it would be more than ready for a second round. There’s no way in hell that Derek could touch Stiles like that again without claiming him, so he quickly drags the bed covers over, hiding all the delicious temptation from view. 

Stiles watches him steadily. Those beautiful amber eyes hold thoughts and secrets that he would love to take the time to seek out and discover. He feels a pang when he thinks that is something a mate or a lover would be entitled to do, not a wolf who is about to leave him. The thought of someone else loving Stiles, being able to be with him and touch him, learn those secrets makes him growl in jealousy and frustration.

Stiles lifts his hand and cups Derek’s face, letting the rasp of his stubble, prickle against his fingertips until the nerve endings tingle like mad. He rubs a soothing thumb across lips that are red and slightly puffy from the ferocity of their kisses. Derek clasps Stiles’ hand, holding it and turns his face into it so he can passionately kiss the very centre of his palm. It feels like a brand, like Derek’s marking him permanently and maybe he is, because Stiles seriously doubts that there will never ever be anyone who can compare to Derek Hale for him.

“Goodbye Derek.” There is the faint shimmer of tears, just barely held in check, the voice tremulous. “I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be right here.” Waiting for you, are the unspoken words but they both hear them just as clearly.

Derek nods in understanding. He leaves Stiles’ bedroom through the window, feeling the heavy weight of Stiles’ eyes upon him as he steps out onto the roof. As he’s making his way down the street, for the first time he curses his lycanthropy doesn’t consider it a gift, because it lets him hear the heartbreaking sobs that echo from the bedroom he’s just left and they follow him under the moonlight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Cora have been on the road for months and in that time Derek has been getting texts from Stiles. They are funny and sad and Derek finds that he looks forward to reading whatever is going on in his mate's mind. He's still determined to stay away from Stiles to keep him safe, but when the texts stop coming and he finds out that Peter is somehow involved, nothing's going to get in Derek's way from returning to Beacon Hills and to Stiles. But, does Stiles still feel the same way he did all those months ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did not expect this to keep getting longer and longer - not the one shot I was expecting.
> 
> Unbeta'ed, but tweaked until it can't be tweaked no more!

He may have left Stiles behind in Beacon Hills, but with the number of texts he’s been getting from the teenager it’s clear that his idea of ‘waiting’ for Derek doesn’t include being quietly patient about it.

Not that Derek is going to go back, but he can’t help but admit he kinda looks forward to getting those texts. They are random, with no logic or obvious direction to anything that even remotely looks like a conversation between adults. Not that he responds to them, he just reads them, doesn’t text back. He doesn’t delete them either, because some of them he reads over and over. 

He receives them at any time during the day and night, so he takes to having his phone always close at hand and if he finds himself constantly checking for any new messages well that’s something he tries not to think about too much.

The very first one he receives is on the night that he went to Stiles’ bedroom and said goodbye, it makes his stomach muscles clench hard and fast when he reads it. His wolf wants to go to the boy so badly that Derek finds himself on the floor, writhing in the agony that comes from having his wolf and his humanity tussling it out for control. He doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or not that his human side comes out on top and in reality he knows there are no winners.

3am Stiles  
Miss you already. It sucks. You suck.

3.02am Stiles  
You don’t suck. Wish you had.

3.03am Stiles  
Wish I had, even more.

It seems that whatever thought that pops into Stiles head he feels compelled to text Derek about it regardless of time and place. Some he laughs outright at, which spooks Cora and she gives him these weird looks, but he doesn’t care. 

12.01pm Stiles  
Lunch - yes. Curly fries – yes. Lydia and Aiden copping feels under the table – no.

12.02pm Stiles  
Just no. Puts me off my fries.

12.06pm Stiles  
Fries all gone. Nothing can put me off salty fried goodness when I put my mind to it and gouge my eyes out.

Others, he’s either torn between WTF bewilderment or a sad longing that makes him want to run back to Beacon Hills as fast as he can.

10.45pm Stiles  
Do you miss me?

10.46pm Stiles  
I think about you all the time. Every second, every minute.

10.50pm Stiles  
Make it stop. Please.

Derek wishes he knew how, he’d cure himself first.

He and Cora have been travelling. Just moving from place to place, criss-crossing the country, wherever, the mood takes them. They’ve got the money and the time. Sometimes they’ll do the touristy things, like check out the Grand Canyon and Mount Rushmore, other times they find themselves in small towns where they’ll get a room and just chill, watching cartoons together like when they were little kids and eating cocoa puffs in bed. As they travel they share what had happened to them both over the time they had been apart. It breaks Derek’s heart to think of his little sister all alone. He at least had Laura to watch over him.

Cora can’t remember much at all about the past seven years or so and where she’s been. The fire licks at her memory and she can recall the choking smoke and fiery heat, the frightening crack and rumble as part of the ceiling and wall collapse. Screams that break off all too abruptly. That someone had pushed her through a newly formed gap in the brick cellar wall, because of the collapse, leading to the house’s outer foundations, she’d barely been able to squeeze through, her skin scraped raw. 

Stretching through the gap, she’d held the strong hand fiercely, listening as a smoke ravaged voice tells her to run and just keep running, don’t stop. In hindsight, she recognises the voice as being Peter’s and she'd done exactly what he’d told her, because they’d been under attack. She’d dragged her hand from his and run until she couldn’t run anymore and then she’d gathered whatever pitiful strength she had and kept going. 

Her nine year old mind had shut down at the horrors she’d witnessed in that cellar and she stopped talking. When she was inevitably picked up by the authorities miles from Beacon Hills where someone might possibly know her, with no apparent family and no leads to one she was placed in the welfare system as a Jane Doe. Living in orphanages, too old to be selected by prospective adoptive or foster parents who didn’t want a ten year old little girl who couldn’t talk and wouldn’t smile or laugh.

It’s a connection he’s glad that they are taking the time to reforge. With all the pain and death that had been going on in Beacon Hills once they found each other again, they had really so little time to actually just sit and talk, now that they are able to he realises that Cora is more like their mother than he had realised. Not just in looks but in the forthright way she speaks her mind.

“You know you love him. Right?” It’s out of the blue when she speaks one night and it takes Derek a moment to realise that it’s actually Cora speaking to him and not some background noise from the tv. 

He puts his book down next to him on the bed, it’s “The hitchhikers guide to the galaxy” appropriate because he’s telling himself “Don’t panic” when his mind replays what she’s just said.

“Yes.” Which is so not what he meant to say at all. He looks at her, puzzled by his own truthfulness and Cora reaches across the space between their beds and smoothes her thumb across his eyebrow that he can feel has quirked high on his forehead, she’s smirking. 

“And you know he loves you. Right?” He remembers that night when Stiles had told him “I love you” in a soft broken voice, it’s a memory that he keeps locked away tight and every now and then he pulls it out and peeks at it, still amazed that such a funny, brave and beautiful person like Stiles finds something in him that is worth loving. He nods in response to her question.

“Then why are we here? Shouldn’t you be there, getting all hot and bothered in your mating heat instead of here with your sister in..” She pauses for a long moment. “Derek for God’s sake where are we?” He’s not in a laughing mood, not at all, but he can’t help it when a small chuckle escapes him, because he can’t remember where they are either. Is it Iowa or Indiana? It’s definitely a state starting with an I, he’s pretty sure. 

He’s dragged them both from one end of the country to the other, for no other purpose than to NOT be in the one place that is home. It’s home because that’s where his mate is. Its clichéd, but wherever Stiles is, that is home for Derek.

“Cora.. he died. Stiles died because of me.” He turns his head, ashamed. A wolf protects his mate always and he’s done a very poor job of it with Stiles.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure he died because he chose to.” His head snaps around and he’s about to tear strips off her, maybe even literally as his canines have dropped, then he sees the expression on her face. It’s so understanding, that he feels guilty when he remembers that she has lost someone recently. He doesn’t know exactly what bond she had with Boyd but there was definitely one there. Maybe one day it will be okay for him to ask.

“Don’t underestimate him. He may not be a wolf, but he’s strong. Probably stronger than you or I. He’s human. Fragile, easily broken and yet he doesn’t hesitate. The things he does.. if I wasn’t a werewolf I’d be outta there so fast, but I know I can heal… most things.” Her eyes darken momentarily and he knows that she’s recalling the Darach’s spell that had almost killed her, her eyes flick up to where his are shining electric blue, a testament to his sacrificing his Alpha hood for her life. He doesn’t regret it for one second, he puts his hand out to her and she takes it, her small hand swallowed by his larger one and he squeezes gently.

“I don’t underestimate him. If you could’ve seen him swing that bat at the twin’s head.. “ There had been a grim determination in the teenager’s face as he’d waited in that hospital room for the twin’s combined uber wolf to appear. 

Derek was proud of the younger man, he’d never doubted Stiles’ courage even when he’d so obviously been afraid of Derek when they first met, the refusal to back down and his never ending sarcastic digs and pokes revealed a young man who stood by his friends even at the risk of his own life. 

Derek was so afraid that characteristic was going to be the death of Stiles, he had come close too many times to count now and far too many of them involved Derek. What the boy even saw in him? He just didn’t understand it.

Thinking about Stiles, inevitably led him to surreptitiously check his phone which he’d left on the bed beside him. There was no symbol showing for incoming texts. He tried to crush the disappointment that welled within him. There had been nothing for the past week. 

What had he expected? He’d left and Stiles had to continue his life in Beacon Hills. There would be school, homework and lacrosse practice in between hanging with friends. A darker thought wouldn’t be denied, maybe even a girl or a boy who would be sweet and kind… would recognise just how special Stiles is… and they would fall in love and he would forget all about the wolf, his mate. Damn it.

“What’s put that look on your face?” Cora still held his hand and she dipped her head to keep his eyes in sight when he tried to avert them. Spotting the phone on the bed, she nods in understanding. “No messages from Stiles.” Derek tries to keep the surprise from his face when she starts to laugh. “Derek it wasn’t really hard to guess and the sleep talking well.. moaning actually, that just gave it all away entirely.” She winks at him with a leering expression that makes him cringe in mortification.

Huffing in disdain, he tries to shake off her hand in his, but she refuses to let go. Her face is suddenly serious.

“We need to go back. You’re not the only one who’s been getting messages.” Cora pulls out her phone from her jacket pocket and flicks through the functions, easily manipulating it with one hand. “Read this.”

It’s a message from Scott, only ten minutes old.

8.50pm Scott  
He’s not good. Too thin. His Dad even came to see me. Asked me if I knew what was going on. Please please get Derek to come back before it’s too late. More important I can smell Peter on him. He says I’m wrong I’m not. Get Derek here now.

Derek’s standing next to the bed, doesn’t even remember getting to his feet, the phone in his hand. Cora’s lucky it’s still intact, because he’d nearly crushed the thing when he first read that message and the second and third times too. His thumb drags through the messages and he sees that Cora’s been keeping in touch with Scott since they left. 

He’s not doing it to intrude on her privacy, just needs to see if there’s any more information about Stiles. It started out with small brief messages every now and then and lately he realises they’ve been longer and more personal.. really.. Scott? Almost every day now. It’s mainly in the latest ones that show Scott’s increasing concern for his best friend.

Derek hands back the phone and reaches for his own. He presses the saved number for Stiles and waits impatiently as it starts to ring. He looks at his watch and realises that yeah with the time difference it’s still reasonably early on the west coast.

“Hello.” Derek freezes as he recognises the voice on the other end of the line. 

“Peter. What are you doing with Stiles’ phone?” Derek knows he’s growling as he speaks, but he can’t control it, not when another wolf answers his mates’ mobile.

“Why Derek. This is a pleasant surprise. I haven’t spoken to you for such a long time.” Peter’s voice is still as smooth and silky as ever and it makes Derek’s hackles rise.

“Where is Stiles and why do you have his phone?” If Derek could reach through the phone and rip out the man’s throat he would.

“I’m just looking after it for him.. while he’s in the shower.” It’s said so calmly, so innocently it takes a moment for Derek to register what’s just been said. Then it clicks and he’s roaring down the phone, beta’ed out and he has no control whatsoever and his phone bears the brunt of it as it snaps loudly, falling to pieces and trickles out of his clenched fist.

He doesn’t need to say anything to Cora, she’s a wolf so she heard every word. She stands and grabs her bags and starts to pack.

2 days later…

Without bothering to turn on the light, Stiles pushes his bedroom door open and slings his lacrosse kit onto the floor, his school bag onto the end of the bed. It’s twilight and dark shadows are growing larger in his room as the light recedes. In the corner by his desk, he sees a pair of flashing blue lights and stumbles back in alarm, his hand slapping frantically at the wall to find the switch.

“Stiles.” The voice is a low rumble and Stiles thinks he recognises it, but he’s heard that voice before and when he’s woken up no one’s there and… he’s dreaming now must be… when did he even fall asleep… the dark shape he can just make out by his desk switches on the lamp and… Holy crap. Derek is sitting in his chair, watching him.

He’s kinda thankful that the wall is so close behind him to prop him up, otherwise his legs would’ve given way underneath him and that’s not the kind of image he wants Derek to have after nearly four months apart, Stiles collapsed in a heap on the floor.

“You’re back..” Smooth, Stiles smooth. He cringes inside. “Obviously.” 

Derek’s sitting there so calmly, hands resting on his thighs. His eyes have lost the blue glow of a beta and returned to their normal state of WTF colour is that and light green is the closest he can come to and it doesn’t reflect how beautiful they really are. The guy’s unflappable, nothing seems to shake him and it’s infuriating. 

Then Stiles recalls that night in this very room 4 months, 2 days and 19 hours ago. Derek was trembling and moaning in his arms, there was nothing calm about him then and it was all due to what he likes to call the Stilinski Effect. He’s replayed that night in his mind so many times that whenever he walks into the room he’s sure he can see ghost images of it, that it’s so monumental an event it’s etched itself like a recording into the very fabric of time and space in his bedroom.

His confidence increases and he can feel his heartbeat settle into a more normal rhythm. Good, it’s such an unfair advantage that werewolves’ senses are acute enough to pick up any irregularities in the beat.

“For how long?” That’s a valid question he decides. Derek may just be dropping in on his way through to somewhere else that’s far far away from Stiles.

“I haven’t decided yet. It depends..” Derek’s voice is low and controlled and it grates against something that Stiles has been pushing down deep inside himself, but lately it’s been trickling out. Stiles pulls himself upright, away from the wall, his hands tightly curling into fists. 

“Depends on what?” Stiles never knew he possessed as hard a tone in his voice as his father does when he’s in full Sheriff mode, but there it is. Go figure. “How long it takes to hurt me all over again?”

Derek visibly flinches at the bitterness coating the words and a small bubble of satisfaction bursts in Stiles’ chest. It slightly soothes and appeases him, after all he’s just a human and humanity is one of the only species that truly has a vindictive nature. 

Derek shifts in his chair, the first indication that he’s maybe not as at ease as he would like to appear. Stiles looks more closely at him, then he sees it. A strange feeling washes over him as he realises that Derek’s hands that are resting on his thighs are not purely human, the claws are out and they are digging deep into the taut flesh of his thighs as if it is the only thing restraining him from reaching out and... his head feels fuzzy for just a moment as he tries to decipher all the implications of what he’s seeing, but Derek is talking and he’s losing the thread of that thought.

“No I don’t want to hurt you Stiles… it just… it depends on you.” Derek feels nauseous. This is not going at all how he expected. Did he expect Stiles just to be grateful because he came back for him? No… well maybe just a bit… yes.. 

“God damn it, Stiles. You stopped texting me… and I needed to make sure you were okay.” Derek huffs out a breath of air, loudly.

The fury that has been grinding away deep in Stiles’ belly rises in an unstoppable rush.

“That was only one week Derek, multiply that by 16. Sixteen weeks.” Stiles starts to pace, the room isn’t long enough for the amount of furious energy he needs to burn off, but he gives it a damn good try. Pacing back and forth. 

“Four months Derek. Four months where I didn’t hear a single fucking word from you. Not even to say ‘hey Stiles I’m still alive’.” He lifts a trembling hand to run it through his hair, tugging and pulling at the fine strands.

“I only knew you were alive because Cora was texting with Scott.” He pauses. So angry. Angry at Derek, even more angry at himself. He shakes his head in disbelief as he recalls his own words and actions the last time. “I let you walk all over me. I was too shocked and maybe too in awe of you to stand up to you and tell you exactly how wrong and stupid I thought you were being.”

“Is it wrong to want you to stay alive, to be safe?” Derek’s starting to get angry himself now, he can feel the fury coming off Stiles in hot waves. 

It’s changed his scent slightly as well, there’s still orange and vanilla but threaded through it is coffee. Not the generic, bought over the counter in some safe little chain store in the local shopping centre version, but the strong, aromatic Turkish blend that comes only as a rich, bitter, black liquid in small delicate cups from a café in some exotic market bazaar. 

It’s compelling and alluring, just like his mate is, particularly at the moment. Derek is amazed to find that he likes this argumentative Stiles, one that is ready to go toe to toe with him. It’s kind of hot and the way Stiles has been prowling back and forth in front of him, he’s lucky that Derek hasn’t jumped him. He doesn’t hold back, he draws in a deep breath and lets it sit in his lungs for as long as possible so it soaks into his body, permeates every cell. It makes him hard.

“No. I want you to stay alive and be safe as well. What I don’t want, is you to decide what the best way to do that is without even talking it over with me first?” He takes a couple of steps closer to the older man, unable to resist. “Why do you insist on believing that you are to blame for all the bad shit that happens?”

Derek stands jerkily, his claws dropping away from his thighs and Stiles can just make out tiny slits in the denim where they had pushed through to the flesh below. He can feel his face flush with heat when he realises that just above where he’s looking there’s that huge bulge tenting out the front of Derek’s jeans that he remembers from that night.

“Maybe because everyone I love either ends up hurt or dead and I’ll be damned if I let that happen to you.” His voice is harsh and Derek’s eyes are wild and flashing blue with his emotions. 

Stiles lets that statement sink in for a moment. Replays it in his head. Once, twice checking for tone or any other nuances that might mean he’s misinterpreting what Derek’s said. His heart starts to gallop in his ribcage and right now he doesn’t care that the other man can hear it because…

“You love me.” He breathes the words out and they are barely audible because his chest has just about seized up in reaction, but he can see Derek visibly flinch when he hears them. A stripe of red flushes across Derek’s high cheekbones, it’s adorable and sweet and Stiles loves him so much right then that it borders on pain.

“Stiles..” Derek begins. But, Stiles is in no mood to be denied or told that he’s misunderstood and wilfully interrupts.

“You. Love. Me.” Stiles can’t stop the grin that’s stretching his cheeks so wide that it almost hurts. This stubborn, controlling and most sour of wolves is in love with him, Stiles Stilinski, and he’s so happy that it almost feels like he’s going to rupture something. Wouldn’t that be just his luck, find out the love of your life loves you in return and then have a heart attack. 

Derek closes his eyes. He almost can’t bear to look, because Stiles is glowing. It’s like an internal light switch has just been flicked on and every inch of him is pulsing with energy. Amber eyes flash brightly, dazzling him with the intensity of Stiles’ emotions that are flooding out of them. 

His scent doesn’t hold that bitter coffee flavour anymore, Derek feels like he’s standing in an orchard of oranges and he’s drowning in the citrus scent only able to surface because of the richer, sweeter vanilla scent that helps to ground him, anchors him.

“You knew that night, didn’t you?” Stiles asks hesitantly. Does he really want to know? “That’s why you left. It wasn’t just to keep me safe, you were running.” With everything that he knows of the older man, his history and trust issues, Stiles quickly pieces it together. “Running from me. I get it.. I really do.”

Derek opens his eyes and doesn’t see any condemnation or rancor in Stiles’ expression just curiosity, he simply nods his head. He needs Stiles to know the truth, that it is more than the simple notions of love and happy ever after that he’s grown up with. Being with a wolf is so much more, he trembles at the thought of having Stiles as his mate, he wants it so badly.

“A part of me has always known, right from the very first moment we met.” Derek’s voice is harsh, he coughs to clear it, but it’s an emotional rather than physical cause that is constricting his throat.

“Stiles my wolf knew instantly because… you’re my mate.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek wants to explain about the mate bond and what it means to be mated to a werewolf before they get intimate. However, Stiles misunderstands entirely due to his own self-esteem issues and believes Derek actually wants to either use him as a booty call or bump him off so he can get a more suitable mate. When Stiles tries to escape it provokes Derek's inner wolf to chase him down and once he's caught.. well who knows what will happen then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, chapter 3 and I'm still not finished - so much for my intended quickie. 
> 
> Unbeta'ed - but poked and prodded.

“Stiles my wolf knew instantly because… you’re my mate.” Derek’s voice is harsh, he doesn’t mean it to be, but he’s struggling. Struggling with control, he’s off balance and unsure of himself because he can feel that he’s at one of those life changing turning points that people talk about and he’s so damned scared that he’s going to mess it up.

He’s this close to getting everything he’s ever wanted in life. Family, pack, a home and the most important thing of all, a mate. He’s dreamed about it, what wolf hasn’t, but in reality true mates are rare. More often than not the matings that are found in werewolf packs, while still intense, are usually based solely on the choice of the human side of the individual. Their wolf side while protective, particularly when offspring are born, don’t connect with the mate on any level beyond that of a packmate. 

When the wolf side chooses a mate, an empathic bond between the two develops after the first knotting. They can connect on the physical, mental and spiritual planes. The term soul mates is all too easily bandied around, but Derek thinks in this case it’s possibly true. Derek the wolf found Stiles and declared him mate and Derek the human sealed it by agreeing.

There was no doubt in either his wolf nature or his human one that his mate is truly exceptional. Stiles is strong and caring, passionate and honourable, and willing to stand his ground for what he believes in. It’s a never-ceasing wonder to Derek that of all the people in the world, Stiles appears to have chosen him. Even though he’s not an overly religious man, he prays that he won’t disappoint the teenager. 

It won’t be easy, Derek doubts he will ever be able to control the need he has to protect Stiles from everyone and everything, even himself. He will more than likely drive the boy crazy, but he knows now that Stiles will definitely let him know if he starts to overstep his bounds and make decisions for him. He won’t tolerate it if Derek tries to take away his right to choose for himself. 

He huffs out a quick breath. Compromise will be the key he thinks. He tells Stiles what to do, Derek listens to Stiles say no then he makes Stiles do it anyway, sounds like the perfect compromise to him. Yeah right, that’s so going to happen. It almost makes him smile.

Stiles is his mate and the look in his eyes as he stands before him right at this very moment is one he’ll never forget. There’s a glow in those amber eyes, a warmth that soothes him and makes him want to lay his head in Stiles’ lap and feel him stroke his hair. Feel those strong slender fingers carding through the length, nails gently scraping against his scalp. He whines in longing, knows that Stiles won’t hear it because it’s too low for human ears.

The longer he looks at that warm glow though, Derek can see beyond it, deeper to a fire that rages and burns and it stokes the flames within his belly and makes his groin feel heavy and aching. He can’t give in to the desire, not yet, later he hopes fervently. He and Stiles need to talk, he needs to tell him everything, what being a mate entails. He has to tell him the truth, before it goes any further, because Stiles needs to know these things if he’s to choose. He’s quietly terrified that the answer will be no.

“Derek..” Stiles voice is hoarse and he takes an unsteady step towards the wolf.. his wolf.. his mate. He wants, he needs and he burns and it’s Derek that his body and instincts are telling him will satisfy those desires. It’s been 4 months since Stiles had last felt Derek’s hands on him, 4 months since he had last kissed him and Stiles calculates that means he and Derek have at least 8 months of catching up to do. Good thing he's got stamina.

“Stiles wait.” There’s panic in Derek’s voice and he holds up one hand as though to ward Stiles off. “We need to talk.” He quickly steps back until there’s a huge gap between them.

Stiles is confused, are they mates or not? Derek shouldn’t be scared but Stiles can tell he is, it's all over his face, so he stops and waits.. hears a loud released sigh of relief from Derek’s lips. 

He’s trying to think of what he’s said or done that would make Derek pull away from him. He tracks back over what’s been said and then he gets it and it hurts, hurts so bad that he wraps his arms around himself and hunches over, keening his distress.

“Stiles.. Stiles what’s wrong?” Derek watches in horror as the boy who’d been moving towards him with a look in his eyes that’s so sensual he’d thought he was going to have a stroke, suddenly hunches over, his pain a tangible thing reaching out to Derek through his scent. It’s bitter, like biting into an unripened orange and it burns with citric acid, the vanilla is weak and faded as though it’s been left exposed to the sun for too long.

Derek is at his side instantly, arms seeking to wrap around the younger man and comfort him. His heart breaks when Stiles throws up his hands and tries to push him away, shouting fiercely, vehemently “No, get away from me.” 

Derek’s so much stronger he could force his embrace onto him, but he doesn’t, Stiles is distressed enough as it is. His wolf whines and it takes over his throat and it echoes in the bedroom mingling with Stiles panting breaths.

“Okay. You can leave now.. I got the message… loud and clear now.. so you can go.” Stiles is desperate to get Derek out of here before he breaks down completely. He’s a fool. Stupid, stupid. He starts to itemise all the reasons why he’s an idiot for even thinking he had a chance.

Derek’s known ever since they first met that Stiles is his mate, he doesn’t know quite how it works, but surely if Derek had really, really wanted him wouldn’t he have approached Stiles well over a year ago? You would think if your perfect wolfy match appeared you would at least give them a heads up. But, no tonight is the first time he’s heard about any of this.

The only time they’ve been intimate is the very night before Derek leaves and disappears for four months without so much as a word from him in all that time and now after Derek admits he loves him.. although now that he thinks about it he didn’t exactly say the words just nodded his head. Plus the fact he’s almost frantic that Stiles keeps his mitts to himself and not touch him. It all adds up to one case of extremely reluctant attraction, its all gone so terribly wrong. 

Derek may want him, may even love him in some weird, wolfy way, but he really, really doesn’t want to. He’s starting to feel that they’ve been talking at cross-purposes. He’s been talking about love and forever and Derek’s been thinking Stiles is the perfect booty call and Stiles has too much pride to be anyone’s toy. Particularly a werewolf chew toy, because he knows all too well they have a kink for nibbling and biting. He even admitted he was only going to stay long enough to.. let's just say party on Stiles' ass.. and that it would all depend on Stiles, saying yes of course.

He doesn’t even know why he’s surprised as he looks at the other man who’s still the hottest thing on two legs that Stiles has ever seen in his life, even with the puzzled, quizzical look that he’s wearing right now. Stiles is the equivalent of a human meerkat and Derek is the very epitomy of a Greek God and ne’er the twain shall meet or mate, he thinks.

Heaven and hell, all in the space of a few minutes. He starts to laugh, slightly hysterical. What did Ms Morell say to him that time? If you’re going through hell, keep going. That’s all well and good he thinks, but what if hell is all you can see ahead of you now and it’s here to stay.

Derek’s had enough. His wolf’s going crazy, knowing that his mate is in emotional pain from something he just doesn’t know what, and Derek can’t control it any longer. The wolf overpowers him, forces him to beta out, roaring and growling his frustration loud enough to make the glass in the bedroom window shiver. It’s enough that it seems to snap Stiles out of whatever headspace he’s in and he’s slowly backing away from Derek, eyes wide with fear, face so pale that in contrast the delicate brown moles scattered along his jawline appear to glow against the white skin.

So this is how it ends. Stiles thinks he understands now, if Derek gets rid of Stiles maybe this mate thing will shift to someone more appropriate for him. Someone more worthy, someone his equal in beauty and strength. 

He’s so fucked up that even now, Derek’s beta form has an appeal for Stiles. The beautiful electric blue eyes that spark heatedly as they trace the length of his body are particularly compelling, even with the knowledge of why they are blue. 

Derek’s panting, his mouth parted, fangs glinting. Derek’s finally going to use those teeth on him and tear out his throat, like he’s always threatened. He can feel his pulse fluttering madly in his neck as though it’s anticipating the rending of sharp fangs. 

He can’t go down without a fight, there’s his Dad to think about and Scott. They care about him and if he dies who’ll look out for them. Fight or flight? The adrenalin that’s shooting through his system is asking the question. He has to choose..

Derek can hear Stiles’ heartbeat, it’s racing and he feels sick because he knows it’s from fear. Stiles is afraid of him. He should turn around and leave, go back through that window and disappear from his life forever. 

The only problem is that when he lost control to the wolf and was forced into his beta skin, his wolf hooked it’s claws well and truly into his psyche and his primal instinctive hindbrain and so for the moment his humanity has lost dominance. He’s running on wolf instinct and it’s telling him to claim and protect his mate at all costs. He takes a step forward and with his enhanced senses can feel Stiles body tense, winding up like a spring. No, damn it. Don’t run. Don’t make me chase you, he knows that it will push buttons in his wolf that he won’t be able to control.

“Stiles whatever you do.. don’t run.. please.” Derek is begging him, but it’s too late because Stiles has already chosen.. it’s flight and he’s quick, all that lacrosse training is paying off, and he’s out the door and running. He hears an excited yip from the bedroom then he can feel the thump thump vibration of footsteps against the wooden floor right behind him, but he knows his house, he hopes that’s enough of an advantage. 

Stiles feels the gentle scrape of claws against his neck before they hook into and slice through the thin cotton of his t-shirt from collar to hem, the sound of tearing material is deafening. The torn fabric flutters free as Stiles hits the stairs and like he’s done so many times before, much to his Dad’s displeasure, he has one hand on the bannister railing and vaults over to the lower level and gained precious seconds. 

The howl that echoes throughout the house makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as he realises, maybe too late, that by running he’s turned himself into prey. 

He chooses to head to the front door, hoping to get to the street. It’s not very late and there will still be people out and about in this ordinary suburban neighbourhood and it may be just enough to deter the wolf on his heels from devouring him whole if there are witnesses. It’s a great plan, too bad he doesn’t make it.

Derek tackles him. All the air in Stiles’ lungs feels like it’s being forced out of his body in one great big whooshing exhale of breath. Derek’s heavy muscular frame drags Stiles lighter one to the ground effortlessly. He’s about a metre and a half from the front door and it may as well be to the moon, the older man’s simply too strong. 

Derek has wrapped his arms around him and as he’s falling to the floor he rolls so that Stiles is cushioned from the impact by Derek’s body underneath him. His naked back pressed to the furnace-like heat of Derek’s chest, it burns even through the cotton t-shirt he’s wearing. Even landing on Derek, doesn’t prevent Stiles from being winded. He’s breathless and doesn’t move for a moment or two, knowing he must feel like a dead weight to the man beneath him.

He hears a soft whine as Derek frantically nuzzles his neck and ear. His stubble drags across the delicate, sensitive flesh and Stiles can’t help the shiver that ripples through his body. Maybe he’s dead, he thinks. Derek’s actually ripped his throat out and this is the afterlife, this is heaven, because as far as Stiles and his traitorous body are concerned it feels too good not to be.

He can feel the hard, muscled body beneath him and Derek’s heat is scorching his skin. Stiles is only dressed in pants and his sneakers now, the remnants of his t-shirt somewhere near the stairs. The muscular arms wrapped around him keep his own arms pinned to his sides and he feels Derek shift slightly beneath him and woah.. just woah. 

Now that Derek’s moved him slightly he can feel a rock hard bulge pressing against his ass and he tries to move away from it but Derek’s got him pinned tight and is obviously enjoying his movements because his chest is vibrating quite strongly against his back and there’s a low rumbling sound coming from him. It’s almost like he’s purring which is impossible because - hello - canine dna in the mix, but still.. Derek’s moaning something into his neck, it’s so low he can just barely make it out.

“You’re mine.. Stiles.. mine… my mate… mine… mine... Stiles…mate…”

Derek uses his immense strength to all too easily drag Stiles’ body further up his torso. It’s disconcerting on so many levels. It tips his head back against Derek’s shoulder, almost draping him over the other man like a living blanket, allowing the wolf to have complete access to his neck, ear and face on that side. 

He takes complete advantage by licking a hot wet stripe up the side of Stiles’ neck. Then nibbles and licks each and every brown mole that dots his jawline lingering lovingly, when he eventually reaches Stiles ear he gently nips the rim before swirling his tongue firmly against the inner whorls. Stiles groans, dear God it’s so hot. Why has he never done this before? Oh yeah right, no one’s ever wanted to.. until now. Until Derek. He groans again because it’s just too good.

When he’d hauled him up Derek’s hands slid over his bare torso and he’s ended up with one arm wrapped firmly around his upper chest, the claws of that hand just resting lightly over his heart, the nails gently pricking the flesh there drawing out goosebumps across his arms and chest. It makes his nipples stand out, hard and erect. 

The other one has somehow ended up on his belly, fingers splayed, claws idly ruffling through the trail of hair that leads from Stiles’ bellybutton to below the belt of his pants. The shivers that rock through him, at that sensation are bone deep.

The final piece of torment that is slowly but surely driving him insane, is that Derek’s threaded a muscled thigh between Stiles’ legs, bending it at the knee. To all intents and purposes Stiles is flat on his back, draped over Derek’s body and riding Derek’s leg and it’s pressing against his balls and the base of his cock creating the most wicked of sensations. Stiles can’t help himself he’s moving and grinding. Pressing his ass down against the hard heavy length beneath him then surging up and forward to grind his aching groin against the firm hard thigh.

Stiles is lost. He’s awash in the most amazing sensations that his body has ever produced, all at the hands of Derek Hale. The man who says he loves him, but then wolfs out as though he’s going to kill him, although Stiles’ isn't so sure now unless the plan is to sex him to death. He just doesn’t care anymore. Decides that no matter what happens he will forever love Derek Hale and he’s not going to hold back on that now, letting the warm glow surge through him making him moan softly. Whatever, Derek can kill him afterwards, but for right now at this very moment he’s going to enjoy every bit of pleasure that Derek can conjure up in his body. He releases all control over his mind, heart and soul, stops thinking at all and just sinks back into the hard body that is beneath him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's chased Stiles down, brought him to the floor, he needs to touch his mate desperately. It's wild and frantic and in the midst of desire Derek and Stiles truly connect and it's not what either of them expect. What will the aftermath bring?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'ed - as always, therefore, it's all on me - the good, the bad and everything in between.

Derek’s going to mate him. Has to, needs to, wants to. His wolf has chased his mate down and all his senses are focused on the boy who’s currently writhing above him. The relief he feels when he starts smelling his mate’s natural scent is overwhelming. His eyes sting and start to well up with unshed tears, he tells himself that its remnants of that awful bitter acidic scent, that he never ever wants to smell coming from Stiles again. Who would dare to call him a liar? 

Derek breathes in spiced oranges drowned in vanilla and rich dark chocolate and he knows that this is the scent he will carry in his heart forever, it’s the scent of Stiles in love, in desire, in acceptance and he can’t stop the heated whine that escapes him, because it means that Stiles is saying ‘yes I choose you’ to him. 

The knowledge is shattering, his mate has accepted him and Derek feels not only humbled and in awe, but also strong and anchored, tethered to something, someone else in this life. He’s not on his own anymore. Stiles has thrown him a line, a lifeline, and Derek’s going to hold on tight forever. He feels a stirring in his chest, a tentative reaching out, of something deep within him towards Stiles, it feels good, it feels right and he’s greedy, so greedy because he wants more.

He slides his hand up from Stiles smooth firm chest to caress the long line of his neck, cupping his chin and jawline fingertips resting on the pulse that’s fluttering wildly beneath the pale almost translucent skin, his claws scraping oh so delicately. It reminds him of how fragile the boy is, makes him want to wrap him up and carry him away, protect him from any and all harm.

Derek tilts Stiles head where it rests on his shoulder, angles it towards him, to allow him to press open mouthed kisses along his cheek down to the corner of his beautiful wide mouth. Stiles’ gasps at the sensation, it allows Derek to push his tongue into the hot wet cave of his mouth and Derek’s softly keening over the top of the constant uncontrollable rumble of pleasure that’s vibrating through his chest. 

God, he has to be so careful, his fangs are still dropped and it would be so easy to lose himself. He’d forgotten the full extent of the sweetness of Stiles’ kiss. He’d remembered the moist heat and the taste which he’s now currently trying to suckle off Stiles’ tongue, but the enthusiastic innocent demanding sounds that Stiles is currently making. How on earth had he forgotten those? They make him feel crazed, the urge to possess him is almost a frenzy in his blood, a violence that he needs to.. has to.. deny. His wolf is pushing hard for what it wants.

Stiles is making little mewling noises in the back of his throat and Derek is getting progressively more and more aroused, his mouth wilder and more demanding on the younger mans. His hips lift clear off the floor, even with Stiles draped across him, and he’s grinding his hard aching cock into the sweet firm flesh of Stiles ass and dear God… Stiles has entwined his legs around Derek’s thigh that he’s riding and is pushing into it even harder. Stiles pulls his mouth away from the kiss gasping, his breath is hitching wildly.

“Stiles.. I can’t… Stiles.” Derek’s control is slipping fast and he needs to touch his mate. Wants to touch him intimately. “Stiles.. let me.. Please.” 

He’s not sure that the teen’s even heard him, until he hears him speak in a voice that’s rough and broken with the pleasure he’s been feeling. “Anything.. anything you want.. Derek I need you.. Please..“ He trails off in a long whining groan.

Derek moans, a wave of heat rushing through him at Stiles words. He’s just been given free rein and he has to bite down on his lower lip hard not to rush to take advantage. His cock is so hard and aching it feels like it’s going to burst, he’s half tempted to reach between them and free himself but it’s not what he really wants. He wants to touch Stiles again like he did all those months ago, the way he’s dreamt about night after night for the past 4 months. But, this time he wants to see him properly, not half hidden between their two bodies where he only caught glimpses.

He can’t resist, the hand that has been resting on Stiles’ belly, playing with that oh so tempting trail of soft hair, finds the buckle of Stiles’ belt and undoes it. It takes him a moment to flick the button of his pants back through the buttonhole with one hand and it’s even easier to drag the zip down. The rasp of which sounds extra loud, even above the gasps and moans that are echoing in the long hallway. Derek pushes his hand into the front of Stiles’ pants and finds the hot, hard length of his cock and it's leaking pre-cum furiously all over his underwear. 

Stiles groans, turns his head desperately seeking Derek’s mouth like he’s dying, pushing his cock into the tight hot grasp of Derek’s hand. Derek kisses him for a long moment, before reluctantly dragging his mouth away. Derek doesn’t just want to feel it, he needs to see it and he gently pushes the boy’s underwear down, so it’s cupped and bunched around his balls. He then slowly pulls out Stiles cock to expose it to the cooler air of the hallway and to Derek’s hungry gaze. 

“Fuck.” Derek can’t help grind out. He keeps a firm grip on the base of Stiles’ cock keeping it proudly upright for them both to see down the length of Stiles’ slender pale torso, Derek lifts his head off the floor slightly so he can see over Stiles’ shoulder. “Look at you. You’re perfect, Stiles.. simply perfect.” He whispers against his mate’s ear, Stiles shudders, Derek doesn’t know if it’s from his breath, the rasp of his stubble, the feel of his lips or simply the words of admiration. Doesn’t care which, just gently nips the rim in approval, drawing a ragged moan from the teenager.

Stiles cock is long and fat, not quite as big as Derek’s, lacking a few inches in length, but it’s still bigger than he remembers, bigger than average. Stiles could even be a fraction of an inch thicker. The column of flesh is helmeted by a mushroom-shaped head that is flushed the deepest, rosiest red Derek’s ever seen and it’s all glistening, a bubble of pre-cum oozing from the slit and trailing down its length. He swallows hard at the sight, saliva gathering and pooling in his mouth, dripping from his long incisors, his body responding faster to the visual than his brain can keep up.

He drags his fist up from the base to the tip, there’s more than enough moisture from where Stiles has been leaking pre-cum to make it an easy glide, then tugs down letting some of his fingers gently caress the weighty sac behind his cock on the downward stroke. Stiles wails, his hips jerking uncontrollably. 

“SSShhhh. I’ve got you.” Derek whispers to Stiles, who opens eyes that have been screwed tightly shut. The amber ones look searchingly into his for a long moment, before he tilts his head slightly letting Derek know he can continue. That trust makes Derek’s chest feel tight and achy. He needs to make this good for Stiles, needs to show him that Derek is worthy of him and his trust. That he’ll honour them both and never abuse it.

He grips the heavy weight of Stiles cock and slides his hand back up then down the straining length again and before Stiles can recover Derek’s done it a second time. He can feel the boy trembling above him, muscles spasming, he stops to let Stiles catch his breath, because he’s aware the teenager’s been unconsciously holding it for far too long.

“Breathe baby.” Derek’s torn between watching Stiles cock get redder and slicker in his hand and the needy, hungry expressions that have been crossing his mate’s face. When he calls him ‘baby,’ Stiles eyes open wide, his pupils are blown with arousal and a strip of burning red flushes high across his cheekbones and nose. A high needy whine pushes out of his gaping mouth.

“Derek.. Derek..” Stiles is pleading, begging him for something.. he can tell the boy’s not even sure what and it trips a switch inside of him. He’s going to give Stiles everything he wants, everything he needs even the things that Stiles hasn’t even thought of, Derek’s going to give him those too.

“I’m not going to stop now.. gonna keep going until you come baby.” He hears Stiles breath stutter and hitch as he growls it softly, nuzzling into Stiles neck drawing another sweet hit of Stiles scent deep into his lungs. He manages to gasp out. “God.. you smell so good.”

Derek starts to stroke the teenager’s cock. He stays in rhythm for a while until he can feel that Stiles has found it and is starting to pump his hips in time, Stiles’ breathing is loud and harsh and he’s moaning, his head is grinding back hard into Derek’s shoulder. Then Derek deliberately puts a twist into the motion of his hand, which lets his palm drag across the sensitive head and Stiles loses it. Absolutely fucking loses it.

He’s bucking and thrashing, the wild movements pressing and rubbing Derek’s cock that’s trapped hard against Stiles ass. It has Derek groaning heatedly. His hand is almost a blur moving over Stiles’ cock. The strangled huffing noises that Stiles is making are going straight to Derek’s groin and he’s certain he’s never ever been this hard before in his life. 

When Derek moves his other hand, that’s been pressing down on Stiles’ chest to keep him from rolling right off the top of him, he slides it across pale silky skin to Stiles taut nipple. In a delicate pincer movement, he uses the claws on his thumb and forefinger to lightly pinch the pink nub. He doesn’t expect the reaction that he gets.

Stiles screams. The hair on the back of Derek’s neck stands on end and a wild thrill moves through his body leaving goosebumps in its wake, because it’s his name that Stiles has just screamed out. His wolf howls its approval and he’s echoing it, throat hoarse with the effort. His cock is throbbing, it’s so damn hard and painfully aching, he wants to whine and whimper like a pup. 

Stiles is coming. Derek angles Stile’s cock down slightly so he can see the jerking rosy head shoot hot, thick white stripes of cum across Stiles belly and chest from the pulsing slit. It’s so beautiful that he can’t move, can only watch until his unblinking eyes dry out, watches until the last weak spurts trickle out, coating that same trail of hair below Stiles bellybutton that’s fascinated him all night. Derek’s shaking with need, his balls are tingling and he knows that it’s only a matter of time before he’s coming as well. Fuck, he needs to be inside his mate right now.

As gently as his trembling hands allow, Derek slides Stiles to one side and it lets him roll out from underneath the younger man and he can lower Stiles gently to the floor. He’s kneeling between Stiles’ sprawled legs and Derek sucks in a harsh breath as he looks down at his mate. 

Stripped and sprawled before him, only in his unbuttoned pants, he can see all too clearly now the weight loss Scott had mentioned in the text to Cora. Stiles face has always had a fine boned angularity and with the baggy t-shirt he’d been wearing it hadn’t been as noticeable. Now, Derek can see that Stiles ribcage is prominent under his pale almost translucent skin, he can see the lines of each rib clearly defined. His hipbones stick out sharply as his stomach dips in hollowly between them. Derek closes his eyes, distraught. This is his fault for leaving. Never should’ve left.. never.

“No you shouldn’t have.” Derek’s eyes flash open, he didn’t even realise he’d been talking out loud. Stiles looks back at him, anger gone in an instant replaced by a curiously vulnerable expression on his face. “I’m sorry I know I.. “ He turns his head to the side, one arm lifting to curl around it, he hides part of his face in his bicep. “I know I look.. different, to before. It just seemed to happen.. one day I wasn’t hungry and before I knew it..“ Stiles flicks an ashamed glance down at his body, before openly staring at the well-muscled one hovering above him. The contrast is painful to see for both of them.

Derek reaches down and gently strokes his flushed cheek. “You’re beautiful, Stiles. Always. It just hurts me to know that I.. that.. that you felt so bad that this is the result.” His hand moves from Stiles face to gently trace the line of a rib on his chest. “You will eat.” There is no arguing at the tone in his voice and Stiles turns to look at Derek’s face and what he sees there seems to satisfy him and he nods his agreement.

Derek doesn’t know what to do, his wolf is still dominant and it’s hungry for its mate. It’s pushing Derek to claim him, but looking at Stiles right now he’s far too fragile for half the things Derek wants to do with him, to him. 

There’s no way he can knot Stiles now, he’d break him and a small voice whispers in his head that he hasn’t had the chance to talk to him to explain about mates, bonds and knottings. His human part wants Stiles to hear what he has to say and still choose him regardless. His wolf part is demanding that they mount him first to claim him, then feed him and fatten him up ready to breed pups. 

It’s all twisted around and Derek’s confused because both ways seem like really, really good ideas to him and he’s torn. The wolf isn’t in the mood to negotiate and is starting to claw at his human psyche, demanding he surrender to its will. It hurts. Hurts so bad, like that night when he’d got Stiles’ first text message, he’d been in agony. The only reason he’d beaten it was he’d eventually passed out.

Derek hunches over. Trying not to show Stiles he’s in pain. What can he do? The wolf will claw his humanity to pieces if he doesn’t give in, unless he gives it something else. Not a full claim that he would get if he knotted with Stiles, but a true scent marking might appease it. Might make it back off. He lets the wolf feel his intentions and receives a vaguely interested chuff in response. A hand on his stomach makes his whole body clench hard and tight. He looks down and Stiles has propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes are wide and concerned and he’s reached out to place his palm flat against Derek’s abdomen.

“What’s wrong? You’re hurt. I can feel it.” His face screws up in bewilderment. “Derek how come I can feel that you’re in pain?”

Dear God. Can it be. Derek can scarcely bring himself to breathe and for once his wolf is in total agreement with him, he can feel it waiting. Tentatively, he searches for that place inside him, the one where he pushed out from before, where he reached out to Stiles seeking to connect with the boy when he felt his acceptance. It’s where his wolf lives deep inside him and most times when he dares to venture there it’s like a forest, tall trees, damp undergrowth and the scent of prey on the wind. This time though..

He closes his eyes and… there, right there he can feel it before he sees it in his mind. There are tendrils of blue, as electric as his beta eye colour, coiled inside him that extend out towards a golden rope. It’s thick and sturdy and as he watches, the wavering tendrils of blue lash outwards and latch onto the rope, entwining it’s threads so it’s blue, gold, blue, gold. 

Derek feels a huge jolt go through his body centred on the hand pressed hard against him. Stiles and Derek, both gasp in shock simultaneously, eyes opening wide. Derek sees the younger man collapse onto his back, his eyes closed and he roars out his mate’s name “Stiles.” 

It’s a gut-wrenching few moments before Stiles opens his eyes and Derek’s heart and soul seize abruptly. For the briefest moment, Stiles eyes are no longer amber, they flash the electric blue of a Beta. The electric blue of Stiles’ werewolf mate. The flash ebbs away and they return to their natural beautiful golden amber colour. 

Derek can feel him. He can feel Stiles breathe – feel the air filling his lungs before it puffs backs out between lips that feel swollen and achy. Can feel the hunger in him as he looks his fill at his mate or is that what Derek’s feeling? He can’t tell. He’s lost between sensations and emotions, doesn’t know if it’s his own he’s feeling or Stiles, just knows that it’s intoxicating. Derek looks down at his mate and his cock throbs a reminder that it hasn’t lessened in hardness at all. That he still wants, still hungers, still needs Stiles.

No words can describe how truly beautiful Stiles is at that very moment, regardless of his too thin body. His spent cock, lays twitching across his belly slowly filling out again even as Derek watches until it’s fully erect, one arm still raised above his head curling over his crown slender fingers almost brushing against the opposite ear, the other arm draped across his middle, his fingers idly playing in the white fluid smeared all over his torso. Stiles watches him with slumberous amber eyes and he’s licking his swollen red lips. It’s all too obvious that Stiles is feeling the same needs and wants that Derek is and that about does it for him, kickstarts the runaway raging hunger all over again. Desperation burns him like a fever, makes him sweat . 

“Fuck.. Stiles.. need… you.” Derek’s frantically pulling off his t-shirt, can hear the seams stretch and tear slightly in his haste, flinging it away from him. Then, he’s yanking at his belt buckle and thank god it’s one of those that clamps into place and not threads through. He’s tugging at his jeans and boxers pulling them down low onto his thighs and then merciful God he’s finally free. The cool air on his groin and bare ass is soothing on his burning skin. His cock feels like a club it’s so engorged and it’s so full of blood that the head, which is poking out of the foreskin, is a deep dark shade bordering on purple. 

He grabs hold of it in one clawed hand and strokes just once. The groan he makes sounds like it’s come from the very depths of his guts. His eyes are shut tight, because it just feels too good, it’s bordering on pain. This won't take long at all to mark him. When he feels a hand on top of his he opens his eyes to see Stiles watching him intently.

“Derek.” He’s prising at Derek’s fingers, trying to get Derek to let go of his own cock. He’s not sure that’s such a good idea until he hears Stiles whisper. “Let me. Please… wanna touch you..” His cock evidently likes that idea because it gives an involuntary jerk.

Derek releases his hold and it sways freely from his groin, so heavy he can feel the tug on his abdominals. When Stiles slender fingers wrap around it, he shudders. He knows it’s not deliberate, that Stiles is just exploring him, feeling the weight of his shaft, fingers wrapping around to gauge the thickness, the worst of it is when he starts toying with his foreskin gently poking at the peek-a-boo head and rubbing it’s soft texture between his fingers. Stiles is apparently fascinated with its uncut extra skin as he keeps glancing down at his own which looks somewhat sleeker for the lack of it. It’s torture.

“Stiles.. please..” He’s not ashamed to beg and he knows that Stiles can hear the pleading in his voice when the boy’s face flushes bright red in arousal at his tone.

“Sorry.” Stiles mumbles, biting those plump red lips and Derek can’t help himself he leans over, hands either side of Stiles’ head and lowers himself down to flick his tongue at those lips and when Stiles gasps, Derek’s thrusting his tongue inside. Licking and swallowing down the heavenly taste of his mate. It’s good, so good for both of them and Stiles grip slackens and releases Derek’s cock, which thumps heavily into Stiles’ belly and he can feel the head drag through the still warm cum that’s coated across it. He feels frenzied knowing that his cock is getting covered in it, in his mate’s juices.

Stiles grabs him again in a trembling hand and starts to stroke him while their mouths are locked together and Derek’s moaning in ecstasy and pushing the sound into his mate. He’s arched over the boy, arms and legs supporting his weight but he doesn’t know for how much longer because he’s trembling so hard. 

Stiles is using both hands to caress him, it’s not nearly as hard, as forceful as Derek normally likes, but it’s Stiles and it’s good. He pulls and pushes, dragging the foreskin backwards and forwards, slick with Stiles’ cum and when he reaches further back with one hand and starts fondling his balls with the lightest butterfly touch as though afraid he’s going to hurt him, Derek can’t stop the feral whining growl that pushes out of him. 

“So big.. and hot.” Derek’s struggling not to have a heart attack when he hears the next words Stiles uncensored mouth speaks. “I want to taste you so bad, you have no idea.” Stiles is looking directly at his groin when he says this, a heated look in his eyes as he licks his lips. Doesn’t he know not to tease a werewolf. Unsurprisingly, Derek’s done.

He roars as the first spurt of cum strips out of him to land flush on Stiles belly, then watches wide-eyed and panting as Stiles directs the flow of cum that’s pouring out of his cock in shuddering, jerky spurts all across his torso as though he’s bathing in it. His claws spasm uncontrollably, raking the wooden floor either side of Stiles’ head. 

Stiles sounds breathless as he says “Yes.. come on me Derek.. please.. come all over me..” Then he angles Derek’s cock slightly downward and the instant white stripes of his cum splatter all over Stiles’ own cock and balls, Stiles is coming again, crying out hoarsely, almost sobbing his pleasure. His pink flushed cock, is pumping his own seed all over his belly to mix with his mate’s scalding contribution. 

“Stiles..” Derek chokes out, before he collapses, like all his strength has been drained away. He knows he’s heavy, but can’t seem to move and the feeling of their cocks pressed against each other, still twitching, and their cum mixing together, smeared between them and soaking into their skin has his wolf chuffing in his head in approval. Satisfied, it releases its hold, steps back and Derek can feel his humanity slowly filtering back into his brain. His beta side withdraws.

Stiles is struggling to breathe. Much as he loves feeling Derek against him, this is a bit more than he can handle Derek’s literally a dead weight.

“Derek.. Can you hear me?” He shoves at the broad muscular shoulders that are pinning him down, not able to resist stroking across the tattoo that adorns Derek's back, even while he's suffocating. “Dude, seriously you gotta move ‘cause I can’t breathe.” Stiles is desperately wheezing by the end of that sentence. It seems that’s enough to get Derek moving, because he rolls to one side and as he does he’s locked an arm around Stiles to draw him in against him, holds him to that deliciously firm and incredibly ripped chest. Stiles is a bit dumbfounded because.. well are they cuddling? He starts to pull back slightly, but Derek just drags him back against him all too easily. 

“Stop fidgeting.” Derek’s voice is firm. Stiles tries again to inch away again.

“I’m not fidgeting.” 

“Yes you are. Now stop it.”

“Stop it.. How can I.. when you are.. when we are.. Derek are we cuddling here?” Stiles voice is a bit thin and reedy sounding to Derek. 

“Yes.. and if I do this..” He turns towards Stiles, still holding him and starts to nuzzle into his hair, then moves on down to his throat and presses his face there and starts to snuffle madly at his skin. It’s hot and wet and definitely teasing. Derek pauses to continue “..this is snuggling.” It’s ticklish and Stiles is laughing, he can see the corner of Derek’s mouth twitch as if he’s trying not to smile.

“So we’re cuddling.. and snuggling?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.” Yes indeedy.. Stiles and Derek Hale are cuddling and snuggling, who’d have thought. He lays there quietly just listening to the other man breathe, it’s soothing and his eyes want to close and just allow him to drift away. Not surprising he thinks, because he’s come twice tonight and they both come in as joint winners of the “best ever orgasm of Stiles life thanks to Derek Hale” award. 

Thank God his Dad was rostered on the night shift tonight, because the way he can feel their mingled cum rapidly running down his side they’re going to have a lot of cleaning up to do. Although, how is he going to explain the claw marks in the wooden floor is anyone’s guess at the moment.

Stiles keeps his face tilted towards Derek’s who is just lying there with his eyes closed. Typical man, rolls over and goes to sleep, he thinks. Although, he knows that Derek isn’t asleep at all. Is he simply exhausted or just not wanting to have to deal with the aftermath?

He sucks in a breath to give a deep, noticeable to all parties concerned type, sigh. Then he smells it. Smells something, nothing bad quite the opposite, in fact it’s so good he moans. Where’s it coming from? He nuzzles his face closer into Derek’s throat and pulls back in surprise. It’s Derek. He smells amazing. Before he knows it, Stiles is up on his knees hunched over Derek and sniffing him, yes that’s right he is sniffing Derek and can’t for the life of him seem to stop. Can his life get any weirder? There’s another scent he can make out on Derek’s belly where their combined cum is still slick and glistening. It’s a citrus tang. Oranges?

“Stiles.” 

“Yep.” He can’t stop smelling it because he’s trying to figure out what it is. His nose is scraping against Derek’s fevered skin so he can inhale deeply, this deliciousness that apparently is all Derek. It’s not just one thing, there’s a couple of scents combining.

“What are you doing?” Derek’s seriously starting to get freaked now, because he knows Stiles isn’t a wolf but he sure is acting like one… Oh.

“I don’t know.. but Derek you smell awesome.” Stiles is pushing harder into Derek’s neck with his face and he tentatively sticks out his tongue and gives a little kitten lick to the skin he can reach. It’s in his skin, he can taste it although it's not quite as strong as the actual scent that’s coming out of his pores, still it tastes.. “Yummy.”

Derek abruptly sits up. He’s rumbling again and his eyes are flashing blue but he’s not completely beta’ed out like before. He takes hold of Stiles by the upper arms and draws him away from his neck, Stiles eyes are locked onto that part of him and Derek gently shakes him out of his trance.

“Derek.” Whines Stiles, then looks at Derek guiltily. “Did I just whine like a little.. kid?” He was going to say ‘bitch’ but in present company and circumstances thinks better of it.

“Yes.” The sourwolf is apparently back in residence, Derek’s face is grim and he’s giving monosyllabic answers. Stiles isn’t going to let that put him off.

“You smell like the forest you know.. kinda wild. I can smell the trees, grass and earth. I can also smell water.. it’s not salty, it’s…” He thinks for a moment. “It’s rain.” Stiles smiles, he’s going to solve this puzzle. There’s just this one element left and it’s sort of familiar. “There’s something else though, I can’t quite put my finger on it.” Derek’s still got a hold on Stiles’ arms and they tighten reflexively.

“Cinnamon.” Derek can’t believe this is happening. They haven’t even had actual sex yet.

“Cinnamon.. “ Stiles eyes widen thoughtfully. “Yes that’s it.” 

Derek’s face looks so unbelievably sad that Stiles’ heart stutters in apprehension.

“Derek what is it? What’s going on?” Stiles can see that the other man is struggling to talk. “I know you’re not going to kill me now, is that it?”

“Kill you. Is that what you thought I was going to do when I caught you?” Stiles nods sheepishly. Derek can’t believe it. Stiles had actually allowed Derek to touch him when he believed that he was going to die. Derek can feel the anger seeping into his voice, he can’t control it, doesn’t want to. 

“What the hell? You’re my mate Stiles I can’t harm you, my wolf won’t allow it.. I won’t allow it.” He’s speaking in nearly a whisper by the end. What’s he doing so wrong that his mate who he would give everything for even his life, thinks he’s going to kill him?

“I’m sorry.” Stiles tries to think of a way to explain it without sounding like a lunatic, not an easy task he concedes. 

“Derek, look at me.” He waves a hand in front of his face and drops it down the length of his body as though he’s a game show hostess presenting the prizes. “Now look at you.” His hand flaps wildly in between them like a crazed bird. “Go on.” He insists, only continuing when he sees Derek drop his eyes to quickly look over his own mostly naked body, before intently watching Stiles again.

“This is me. Plain old Stiles. Everyone’s friend, everyone’s buddy. No one’s ever wanted to be with me the way you’re saying you want to and I can’t.. I can’t quite believe it.” Stiles wants to turn his head away so badly, not wanting Derek to see how much this is affecting him, but they’ve gotta start talking to each other more, be up front, so he keeps looking into those amazing eyes that are intently following every move he makes. Watching his mouth like Derek wants to devour it again and man that is just so hot.

“It’s easier for me to believe that you’ve come back to town for a booty call or to get rid of me permanently so you can find a replacement.. than to actually..” He gulps nervously. “Than to actually believe you want me for me.”

Derek is stunned and he thought he had self-esteem issues. Now that he looks back on his actions over the past 4 months he can see how they would look through the eyes of someone that doesn’t recognise how special, how important they are.

Derek reaches out and puts his hand on the back of Stiles neck and draws him in so that their foreheads touch. He’s looking into startled eyes and can feel the puff of warm breath against his lips as Stiles’ gasps.

“Stiles I came back for you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted since I first saw you. You’re smart, brave… sometimes foolishly so and ridiculously loyal.” He pauses, raises the other hand to cup Stiles’ chin and swipe his thumb over the plump lower lip. His voice has noticeably lowered when he starts to speak again. “And you’re so beautiful.. those amber eyes they kill me when you look at me in just that way and your lips..” Derek sighs and lowers his head to press his lips softly, sweetly against the other boy’s for just a heartbeat. “Never doubt that I want you for you.”

Stiles is trembling uncontrollably and he can feel his eyes are welling with unshed tears. He can’t believe this is his wolf, his sourwolf, telling him these things. It’s like a dream.. maybe it is. He pinches himself hard on the arm.

“Oww.” Nope not a dream. He sees the look that Derek gives him, a mix of concern and fond resignation. “Just testing.” 

“Now why are you so worried about what I can smell?” He can see Derek’s hands clench and flex when he asks the question. He turns his head slightly away so Stiles can’t see his eyes properly. “Nuh-uh.” Stiles reaches up and grabs Derek’s chin and turns his face back toward him.

“We’re starting again. No hiding. Okay?” Stiles looks into his eyes and wills him to see that they can deal with this together. Whatever this is, mind you? Derek slowly nods his head in agreement.

“I tried to talk to you about this earlier.. before you got..” Crazy, weirded out, plumb loco there’s just so many to choose from. Stiles tilts his head and gives Derek what he calls the Sheriff look, his Dad's specialty, daring him to continue that sentence. It’s obviously effective as Derek’s eyebrows attempt vertical liftoff and he looks suitably startled before he continues. “upset?” It’s more of a question really and Stiles gives a nod.

“Yes before I got upset.” Stiles agrees.

“I was going to talk to you about what it means to be a mate. I didn’t want you to go into this not knowing. I wanted you to be able to choose. But, I think it’s too late now.” Derek’s face is grim.

Stiles’ heart freezes mid-beat. “Too late. You mean we can’t. Why? Have you changed your mind?”

Derek grabs Stiles hand in both of his, squeezing in reassurance.

“No. I mean as it’s too late because it’s already started. The mate bond, I didn’t know that it could start without the umm.. you know having actual sex.” Derek starts to squirm under his scrutiny. 

He really is too adorable, Stiles decides as he snorts loudly. “I don’t know what you were doing, but I’m pretty sure I’ve just been having actual sex with you.”

Derek is blushing and Stiles leans forward curiously trying to examine the effect closer, until he’s practically sitting in Derek’s lap. Which isn’t a bad thing because drying cum all over his chest and stomach plus the cool air in the hallway and he’s starting to get a bit chilly, whereas, Derek is like a furnace and Stiles snuggles against his chest, delighting in the bare skin and rippling muscles, trying to leech all the warmth out of him.

“You know what I mean.” He growls and mumbles under his breath. “Knotting. I thought I needed to knot you before the bond could establish.. but, when we were.. together I could feel something in me reaching out to you. I think that was the start.”

“Knotting. Are you fucking kidding me?” Stiles can’t help but feel horrified, maybe a little bit turned on but.. yep the majority is horror. “You mean it gets bigger?”

Derek can’t help but smirk at the tone in Stiles voice. He’s definitely feeling those virginal nerves, although Derek can scent a sliver of arousal there too. That he can work with when the time is right.

Stiles decides to ignore the question of knotting at this stage and focus on other aspects of the mate bond. “So this is why I can suddenly smell.. umm.. the real you?” Stiles asks fascinated. Derek nods. “And the oranges.. that’s me?” 

Derek’s eyes flash to blue and he huffs in agreement, before dropping his face into the hollow of Stiles’ throat. He inhales deeply. “It’s delicious, spiced oranges with vanilla and the dark chocolate is just uuhh.. I just want to eat you up.” His tongue rasps a hot wet line up the cord of Stiles neck. “All the time.”

Stiles can feel his face heat up at the obvious enjoyment that Derek gets from his scent. It’s really sweet and really, really hot. Although, if he doesn’t have a shower soon, nobody’s going to be enjoying his ‘natural’ aroma at all.

“I guess we should clean up and maybe talk about this mate bond thingy.” Stiles says.

“Yeah and there’s some other things we need to talk about too.” Derek replies lifting his head from Stiles’ throat, his blue eyes tracing the contours of Stiles’ face.

“Like what?” Really what else could be more important than this mate bond between them, Stiles wonders.

“Peter.”

“Oh, that.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has collapsed and Derek has to take care of his mate. He thinks he's the worst mate in history, Stiles doesn't seem to think so. Barely recovered and all Stiles wants is Derek, all of him, and Derek's desperately trying to do the right thing and just look after his mate, but Stiles just makes it all incredibly hard.. literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 and I think my porn brain has been left in the 'on' position, because seriously after the last chapter I didn't think any more yummy stuff was going to happen again so soon. But, those boys have needs and who am I to deny them (or myself - tee hee!) Oooh - sorry that sounded a bit creeper-like.
> 
> Unbeta'ed - as per usual, but lovingly tinkered with.

Derek whines softly, as he gently lays an unconscious Stiles on the bathroom floor of the Stilinski house. Damn it, he’s a fucking idiot, he berates himself as he switches on the taps to the shower letting the water run hot for a few moments before setting it to a more comfortable warm temperature. Steam rapidly fills the small room.

He should’ve waited before mentioning his uncle’s name to Stiles. They’d been talking downstairs in the hallway after.. he groans as his stomach muscles spasm hard at the memories of what they’d been doing prior to their talk. 

He’s never felt this way about anyone else before and it feels like Stiles has given Derek the moon and stars already and this is only the beginning. God help him, if and when it goes further. His cock twitches at the thought of Stiles under him and completing the mate bond by knotting, his very vivid imagination goes wild, and suddenly it’s not just twitching he’s got a raging hard on. So totally inappropriate while his mate is lying unconscious, half dressed.

It’s not just the sex, which has him enthralled with his mate. The talking part had surprised him, they had actually been communicating, really quite well, considering Stiles is always telling him to use his ‘words’ and the boy hardly ever shuts up himself. It was a revelation, successful mainly due to Stiles’ refusal to let him hide both physically and verbally. At least right up until Derek had said they needed to talk about Peter.

Stiles had jerked away then and struggled to his feet not bothering to try and button and zip his pants, considering the long line of cum, both Derek’s and Stiles’, that had run the length of his torso it was understandable. It had been absorbed by the fabric of his trousers leaving an extremely prominent wet patch on the front. His face had looked.. almost guilty as he swayed back and forth in front of Derek.

“’m sorry.. can we discuss him like.. nev.. errr.” Stiles is starting to slur his words when his eyes roll back in his head and he’s falling loose-limbed, almost graceful for a change. Derek’s wolf reflexes enable him to catch the boy before he even touches the ground. Clasped tightly to his chest, this is when he realises that Stiles is shaking. He’s such a fool he realises, when he feels how cool the teenager’s skin is beneath his fingertips. 

A werewolf’s core temperature runs much higher than a human’s, so he’d never even noticed that the hallway was particularly cool. It’s even colder to a teenager who’s dropped too much weight, not eating enough and has just endured the all too intimate attentions of an aroused werewolf, all after a typically active day as a high school student. 

Because now Derek thinks about it, Stiles dropped his lacrosse bag in his bedroom earlier, so he’s obviously had training tonight after a long day at school, then been chased through his own house add the two orgasms and Stiles was more than likely cold, exhausted, dehydrated and hungry. He’s lucky he didn’t kill him. 

His first priority is to get Stiles warm, to raise his core temperature. 

He’s a terrible mate.

 

Stiles comes too with a face full of hot water, coughing and spluttering he tries to dodge the spray and realises that he’s propped up against a hard surface, facing the shower head.

“Sorry, you slipped… here let me.” A muscular arm reaches past him and adjusts the angle of the spray so he’s not copping a direct hit in the face, it’s lower onto his chest. This is when it dawns on him that he’s standing in the shower cubicle of his bathroom and he’s not alone. He’s completely naked and he’s not alone. That hard surface he’s leaning against is moving. Like it’s fucking breathing. 

Holy crap. This is one of his biggest fantasies coming to life, how many times had he imagined a naked Derek Hale in this very shower with him. If he’s holding a loofah and a pair of exfoliating gloves he just might expire on the spot.

He shifts wanting to see the other man behind him and sways seeing black spots dance in front of his eyes. What’s happening? Are they on a boat, because the floor feels like it’s moving up and down. A strong hand wraps gently around his waist, holding him upright.

“Easy. Don’t move around too much.” Derek’s talking to him softly like he’s sick or something. Is that it? Is he sick?

“What happened? Am I sick?” His head’s feeling really fuzzy and the powerful spray is hitting him right between the shoulder blades now, which is nice and soothing. Stiles drops his head forward so he can rest it against the hard muscled chest of a very naked Derek Hale. 

“Not sick, but not real healthy either. Definitely, too thin and maybe dehydration and exhaustion.” Stiles can feel the vibration of Derek’s voice against his forehead where it’s pressed to his broad chest. He barely has the energy to nod his head, but the slight tilt he gives is enough for Derek, who lifts his other hand that had been at his side and cups Stiles jawline. His thumb rubs gently back and forth across the soft skin dotted with tiny brown moles.

Stiles closes his eyes and the whirling fuzziness fades, he takes a breath and slowly opens them again, prepared to close them quickly if he sees anymore dancing black spots. Thankfully, there’s none and he sighs in relief and feels Derek twitch slightly. Stiles can’t help but notice, now that his vision isn’t spotty, that with his forehead tipped forward and resting on Derek’s sternum he has an absolutely clear line of sight directly down between their two bodies. Their two naked bodies. 

Did he mention naked? There’s also nude, bare, unclothed, stripped, in the altogether, starkers, in the buff, exposed, buck naked and in the raw. He’s starting to worry he’s got an unhealthy fixation on nudity or should that be on his and more specifically Derek’s nudity because for the life of him, he can’t drag his eyes away from the huge erection that Derek’s sporting just below that magnificent six pack of ridged muscle. 

If a cock can be called beautiful this one is it. It’s thick and heavy and mouth-wateringly wet, water beading and dripping off the purple head just poking out of the foreskin. It juts out defying gravity by slightly arching upward from his groin, because if Derek was lying down Stiles knows it would lay flat against his stomach, the tip just past his belly button. Derek Hale and his monster cock and they were both his. All Stiles’. 

How had this happened? Less than 4 hours ago, he’d been a heartbroken teenage boy coming home to an empty house, wondering if the man he loved was even alive or if he was even.. was even missing Stiles too? Now.. he can only think he must’ve done something real good in a previous life, because all his dreams are coming true. 

At the realisation, all the air in his lungs escapes in a big rush through his gaping mouth and he can see Derek’s abs twitch and flutter as his warm breath gently blows across his wet skin. Derek’s cock bobs up and down in what Stiles likes to think of as an approving ‘here I am, come and get me’ jerk and doesn’t that just crank Stiles up a notch or two, fuzzy head or not.

The hands he’s kept hanging at his sides are seemingly no longer under his control and he reaches out to lightly brush one fingertip against the soft foreskin, letting it dock into the hollow where the head is peeking out, the soft skin wrapping around his fingertip as he stirs the bead of pre-cum against the slit. It looks like Derek’s cock is trying to suck Stiles’ finger inside. Derek groans harshly and Stiles feels one large hand grip his hipbone tight while the other rests on the back of his neck idly threading fingers through his hair at the nape. The scrape of nails against his scalp makes him shudder.

God almighty, Stiles didn’t realise he had a foreskin kink, but this… this proves it beyond doubt as heat ripples over him extending from the finger he has lodged in Derek’s foreskin and it spreads out in a wave up his arm, neck and head then down to his toes and all the places in between. 

Is it a case of wanting what you don’t have? Like curly hair versus straight. He’s not really sure, but he kinda gets off on the idea of placing the head of his cock against Derek’s, the tips kissing each other, and seeing if he could roll out that extra skin and cover his cock head as well. A shiver rocks through him at the thought of that connection, that link to the man he loves.

His mind shatters as he closes his eyes. He wants to be close to Derek, closer than a human being can be, he wants to climb into his skin, wants to merge with his nervous system, wants to see, hear and feel everything that his wolf can. He’s such a freakin’ creeper, has he been hanging out with Peter so long it’s starting to rub off. Nah, he decides, he’s a different brand of creep, less psychopathic serial killer and more teenage geek. It’s just like that song by Radiohead, he used to equate it with Lydia when he had a crush on her, but now.. he thinks it’s more like a love song from a nerdy teen stalker to his stalkee, is that even a word, one smokin’ hot werewolf. 

With his eyes closed he remembers Derek’s words earlier about how he reached out. That it started the mate bond between them. He doesn’t doubt it exists, too many strange feelings and impulses had come over him for that. What the hell, he decides and with everything he is, every bit of love that he has for the other man he reaches out, pushes out seeking, searching for that connection. 

It’s almost too easy. It’s like he’s travelling through darkness and he’s following a rope, a line maybe. It’s gold and the golden light it casts disperses the shadows that flicker lurking out in the dark. Just up ahead he can see the glow change, it’s an undefinable colour much like Derek’s human eyes, it’s still beautiful, more so when he arrives at the spot where he can see glowing blue tendrils entwining with the gold line. 

It makes it thicker, stronger and he can see where the two energies golden and blue merge and the power he senses is phenomenal. There’s a scent in the air.. he almost recognises it, a metallic tang.. then it dawns on him, it’s ozone. That metal charge in the atmosphere you can taste and smell just when lightning strikes. The two energies combined are creating the raw power of lightning. It’s awe inspiring.

He meanders further along the line more to the blue side when in the distance he hears it. A wolf howling, then again.. it’s closer. He’s almost frightened by the intensity in the vocalisation but not fully, he knows the wolf wants him and that’s okay because he wants the wolf right back. He reaches down and caresses the blue line sending a wave of love and longing through his touch.

“Stiles.” Derek’s roaring out his name and it draws him back. Stiles opens his eyes to see that Derek is in his beta form. Eyes glowing blue, mouth snarling exposing long canines and his claws scrape slightly harder against his flesh and it feels so good it makes him shiver. Derek’s holding him, clutching him tight like he’s the most precious thing on earth, afraid he’ll disappear. He’s pulled him in close and is scenting his neck and vulnerable throat, licking Stiles’ adam’s apple with a hot swipe of his tongue. He pulls back, heavy panting breaths gradually slowing as the tremors that rack through his body start to subside.

“My mate..” Whispers Derek, hot breath swirling against his ear. The words are laden with awe and almost disbelief. “I felt you. I could feel you here.” He puts a visibly shaking hand on his chest, near his heart.

“My mate.” Stiles says back, watching in delight as Derek’s face lights up with a joy that he never, ever thought he would see there. He loves him, wants him all over again. “I want you.. Derek, please.” He pushes his finger, which is still trapped in Derek’s foreskin, against the head giving the slit a gentle tap. Derek thrusts uncontrollably, in response, his cheeks flushing hotly.

“Stiles.. no.. I.. you need to rest.” Derek whispers the words against the top of his head, pressing a kiss there, before moving his hips back and away trying to put his cock out of reach. The foreskin is reluctant to let go of Stiles’ finger and it slowly peels back eventually freeing it. Stiles snickers, is Derek in denial? His cock’s way too big to ever be out of reach, unless they’re in separate rooms. 

It’s funny, this time Derek’s trying to head him off and Stiles isn’t worried that the older man’s trying to avoid him, do the mate equivalent of a wifeswap or even kill him, no nothing like that, not after what they’ve shared tonight. He can tell that it’s different this time, because even though Derek’s saying ‘No’ his eyes are saying ‘Hell, yes’ and he can feel it too. Can feel that Derek’s body is straining towards his.

Stiles is saying ‘hell yes’ as well and he can literally feel the blood rushing from other parts of his body to pool in his groin as his own cock makes a valiant attempt at joining in all the fun and getting perky. Oh big mistake, his head feels light-headed and his knees are really, really weak, like jelly and before he knows it he’s drooping as they can’t support him anymore. 

He’s sliding down, his cheek pressed to Derek’s chest, then his abdomen. Sliding, sliding and he can feel Derek try and grab hold to pull him back up but his skin is wet and slick and he can’t get a good grip without hurting him. Stiles winces as his bony knees make contact with the tiled floor of the shower. 

He wraps his arms around Derek’s thighs to stop himself from sliding any further and realises with a start of surprise that his cheek is pressed all too intimately to Derek’s groin. The crisp black curls tickle his skin and just below his chin he can feel something iron hard but wrapped in soft velvet, twitching and tapping against his jawline as though it’s trying to get his attention. 

He buries his face into the curls and inhales deeply, groaning. Derek’s scent is stronger here. It’s rich, wild and musky, the scent of the forest trapped in Derek’s pubic hair, in his pores. It’s addictive, if Stiles has to breathe to live, this is all he wants to inhale for the rest of his life. Everything else is tainted, polluted.

“Stiles..” Derek’s voice is thready and shaking. Tilting his head Stiles looks up the magnificent length of Derek’s body and realises exactly what this position looks like to Derek. It gives him a jolt, a surge of lust and it’s like rocket fuel and his head isn’t fuzzy or light any more. There is clarity and knowing what he wants to do right now more than anything else in the world. He sits back on his heels and licks his lips watching trails of water run down those delicious abs. He’s ever so thirsty.

Derek is trembling. Can’t control it, how on earth can he control it when Stiles, his beautiful mate, is kneeling at his feet. His face pressed tight to Derek’s groin and he can feel Stiles’ hot breath stirring the curls there as he groans long and loud. It does something to him deep inside. A werewolf’s natural dominance can only find this incredibly arousing, the sight of his mate on their knees before him, the simple submissiveness of it makes him roar in approval. Stiles, submissive. Yes, yes, yes. Oh god, he was in serious trouble here. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Stiles..” He’s about to tell him to stop, to explain that he’s really too weak to be.. where he is right now. Before he can Stiles has rocked back on his heels and his hair is plastered tight to his skull, the water trickling over his face. Beads drip from the ends of unusually long lashes that fringe amber eyes, they look up at him so sultrily that he forgets to breathe. Steam swirls around them both and Stiles looks like Derek’s hottest wet dream ever, literally. When the boy licks his lips Derek is certain that his heart, which has been beating a frantic rhythm since he first got them into the shower together, is going to punch right through his ribcage as it hammers harder and harder in his chest.

Stiles darts forward and Derek is totally unprepared for him to lick up the running trails of water that are snaking their way down, through the line of hair extending from his belly button to his cock. He convulses. Limbs jerking wildly.

“God damn it Stiles.. you need to stop this..” Derek’s hands fall heavily onto Stiles’ shoulders. He really, really means for them to be there to help lift the younger man up to his feet, but somehow the message from his brain to his hands via his overloaded nervous system gets awfully confused and he’s holding Stiles in place, not wanting him to get away.

“You’re too weak for this.. you need food and water.. you’re seriously dehydrated.” Derek’s trying to be rational and it’s really hard when Stiles now has one hand wrapped around the base of his cock. He’s going to explode he’s sure of it. 

Stiles has Derek’s huge throbbing cock pointed directly at his mouth, he can feel Derek’s heartbeat forcing more and more blood into its length, can see it pulsing under the delicate flushed skin. Stiles’ nibbles on his lower lip thoughtfully, as he scrutinizes the organ in front of him. 

He’s never done this before, never had it done to him either. He’s watched plenty of porn though, but he doesn’t want it to be like that. This is special. It’s Derek and he loves him. He just wants it to be good for him. Good for both of them. All he can think to do is just not hold back, try it all, find out what they like and go from there.

He lifts his eyes to meet Derek’s gaze, noting the flush of red staining the wolf’s cheeks and that his eyes are no longer his human light green colour they are the vibrant blue of his wolf, he opens his mouth to speak only a breath away from the other man’s cock and hears a swiftly bitten off whimper. 

“I’m on a liquid diet at the moment.” Says Stiles, Derek whines long and loud at his words. All or nothing he decides and Stiles swallows the tip, letting his lips push the foreskin back and at the same time Derek’s driving his hips forward, slowly pushing his cock into his mate’s lush, red mouth. 

All the time he’s maintaining eye contact with the wolf who’s watching him with the hottest most feral look on his face that Stiles has ever seen. He’s looking at Stiles like he’s a miracle, like he’s invented the blow job just for him. He’s done that, put that look onto his face, made the most magnificent man he’s ever known, inside and out, stray from his good intentions. Stiles feels sexy.. powerful, desirable, it’s intoxicating. He is fucking awesome, just ask Derek. 

Stiles’ own cock is heavy and throbbing as it lies against his leg. He thinks about tugging on it with his other hand, but he’s worried that it might distract him too much so he leaves it alone, concentrating furiously on what he’s doing. 

The bulbous head fills his mouth and the texture is surprisingly silky and it tastes.. sweet, not what he’d expected at all, he feels a large pulse of pre-cum land on his tongue and swallows it down greedily. He swirls his tongue around it, trying to chase every drop and Derek’s groaning loudly. Reassured that he’s doing something right, Stiles pulls back slowly, letting the tip of his tongue probe into the slit as far as he can reach, pushing deeper, stretching it, trying to extract some more of that sweetness. 

Derek’s heavy breathing hitches audibly, he starts to pant and his hands that are holding Stiles in place flex and stretch, claws popping out to dig into his wet flesh. The little bite of pain has Stiles moaning around Derek’s cock and he plunges his mouth back down wanting to take as much of it as he possibly can. The head hits the back of his throat and he’s only just half way, he has to pull back his eyes watering furiously at the sensation. 

Derek’s growling and his hips are starting to move, thrusting into that cave of wet heat because it’s so fucking good. His mate is sucking him off and it’s heaven on earth. Stiles has pulled back and is licking his lips as though trying to work out the best plan of attack. Derek can save him the trouble, all he needs to do is open wide.

He nudges his cock against lips that are red and puffy from friction, growling in warning as Stiles teases him by slowly, slowly letting him push inside to find that suckling wet heat. He wants to pump his hips and push his cock deep into the teen’s throat, but Stiles is working it like he’s trying to suck a ping pong ball through a straw, he’s applying the hardest most forceful suction that he can. All the blood in his body feels like it’s been drawn to the one spot and his cock is brutally swelling even more. It’s a good hurt. Werewolves can tolerate much more sensation, whether it’s pain or even pleasure bordering on pain, than humans. He likes it, a lot. He wants more.

Derek can barely move and it’s good, so good because Stiles is laving his tongue underneath at the same time, flicking at the big vein that runs its length and rasping the sensitive bundle of nerves clustered at the delicate little frenulum under the head. Just when Derek thinks he’s about to combust, Stiles releases him with a loud pop and presses his forehead against Derek’s thigh, panting for breath. 

“Sorry.. sorry..” The boy murmurs apologetically, ragged breaths puffing against the hard flesh.

Stiles rocket fuel has fizzled out, he feels more like a broken ‘party popper’ now, one that can’t pop. In fact his head currently feels like it’s going to explode, his own fault, he was applying so much suction to Derek’s cock that he ignored the pressure inside his skull. He’s trying to fight off the waves of black that are trying to pull him back into unconsciousness, when Derek is suddenly right there kneeling beside him. At least, he’s pretty sure it’s him because he’s looking a little bit blurry at the moment. He winces as the pain throbs harder.

Derek’s gutted. He is the absolute worst mate in living history. All it takes is for Stiles to touch him and he’s fucking on him like a wild, rutting animal. What the hell is wrong with him? Looking at the grimace of pain on Stiles’ face kills him. He truly is a monster, pushing himself onto a boy who’s borderline anorexic and on the verge of collapse.

“Stiles, baby. Did I hurt you?” Derek’s trying to be calm, but he and his wolf are both feeling guilty and anxious at the obvious pain their mate is suffering. 

Stiles lifts his head towards the voice, but he can barely see now, even squinting the light hurts his eyes. He manages to say “No.. head… “ He whines, before managing to continue. “aches… migraine..”

Derek places his hands gently on the top of Stiles head and begins to draw out the pain. He can see the veins in his arms darken and turn inky black. He draws and draws until he hears a small heartfelt sigh of relief from his mate. 

He pulls back to look into the young man’s face, seeing that it's peaceful and no longer pained eases the tightness in his chest somewhat. His wolf nature is taking care of the pain that he’s drawn into his own body with its natural strength and healing abilities. He shuts that down. Needs to feel the pain that his mate has been going through, because of him. There’s no excuse for what he did. Taking advantage of his mate, who’s health at this time is nowhere near what it should be for a boy his age. His head immediately starts to throb as though someone’s taken to it with a baseball bat.. from the inside. It’s nothing though compared to how it must have felt to Stiles.

That same feeling washes over Stiles like it did earlier tonight. He can’t explain what it is exactly or how it feels, maybe it’s more apt to describe it as an awareness, a ‘knowing’. He knows that Derek is in pain. He knows that Derek is in pain because of him. It hurts. He rises up on his knees and presses gentle kisses all over Derek’s face, the warm water streams over them both, spilling into his mouth.

“Please stop, you’re hurting me.” Stiles begs his wolf, before pressing a soft sweet kiss to his lips. Derek pulls back to look into Stiles’ face, wide-eyed. Amber eyes plead with blue.

“Stiles.. how? I’ve drawn it out.” Derek and his wolf are getting more frantic, not understanding what’s happening.

“The same way I knew before. I can feel it Derek, you’re hurting, but this time you’re doing it to yourself and I.. I can’t bear it. Please.” Stiles slides his arms over Derek’s broad shoulders, wrapping them around his neck, drawing him into the staggering contradiction that is his embrace, it’s both fierce and gentle all at the same time. It feels like home. 

The water is pouring over them, cleansing. They are both on their knees and plastered thigh to shoulder against each other, both their erections have subsided, Stiles because he was in pain and Derek’s… because Stiles was in pain. Derek has wrapped one arm low around Stiles’ hips, the other cups the back of his head, supporting it, as he tilts it back to whisper against Stiles mouth.

“Alright.” He doesn’t inhibit his body’s natural defences anymore and the god-awful throbbing in his head swiftly dissipates.

“Thank you.” Stiles says, he swipes his tongue delicately over Derek’s bottom lip and when the wolf gasps at the incredible pleasure that simple action gives him, he draws Stiles into the sweetest kiss he’s ever known. 

He doesn’t linger though, much as he wants to, he’s been reminded of his responsibilities to his mate in the worst way, by knowing he’s in pain. He steps out of the shower and gathers what he needs before turning the water off.

Derek lifts Stiles out of the shower and quickly wraps him in the huge clean bath towels he found in the cabinet under the washbasin, not wanting him to cool off before he has a chance to completely dry him first. 

Stiles is too tired to care what happens to him, but he does appreciate the way that Derek is looking after his needs so sweetly. Every nook and cranny is rubbed and patted dry over and over, until he thinks that his Dad can forget about the Solar panels he’s been considering, Stiles may be able to power his home simply from static charge. 

He grabs his deodorant, about to spray liberally when Derek grabs his hand with the can in it. 

“Please don’t. Not tonight anyway. I just want..” It’s so hard to try and explain. “Your scent changed tonight. Changed for me.” Derek’s got this look in his eyes, he’s begging Stiles to understand.

“Oh. That’s just.. No.. that’s fine.. it’s cool really.” Stiles puts the deodorant can back onto the countertop. Derek gives him a smile that’s dazzling, he can feel his heart trip and stumble at the sight. 

He wipes his palm over the condensation on the mirror and flinches at his reflection. What little hair he has on his head is standing out in random spiky chunks. He looks like a startled pineapple. He doesn’t get a chance to adjust it before his legs are swept out from beneath him and he’s held tight against Derek’s chest.

Derek’s carrying him like a virginal bride to the marital bed, as he stalks from the bathroom to Stiles bedroom naked, like an eager newly wed. That thought makes his chest go tight and ‘little Stiles’ twitch. He absolutely, positively knows his face must be crimson because his neck, face and ears feel like they’re on fire… damn it. He wouldn’t be surprised if his eyebrows spontaneously combust.

Derek lowers him to his bed, still wrapped in the towels, before going to his large chest of drawers and getting out a pair of socks, a t-shirt, hoodie and trackpants. He finds another pair, older and a lot baggier from frequent washings and quirks an eyebrow at Stiles.

“Can I..?” 

Stiles doesn’t even let him finish, waving his hand generously. 

“Yeah.. take whatever you need.” The hungry look Derek gives him then, makes him squirm as he swiftly pulls on the trackpants, never taking his eyes off the teenager sitting on the edge of the bed. He ties a knot in the drawstring, but pulls too hard and it snaps. Cursing, he drops his eyes to fiddle with the cord and it’s almost agonizing how long he’s taking to thread it through to the right length to tie it again.

“Do you need help?” Stiles can’t help but ask, because he’s feeling the tension in the room building, but he can’t for the life of him look away from where the waistband is dipping low enough for him to see the perfect muscled ‘v’ cut of Derek’s pelvis and abs. He swallows, hard. Derek lifts his head, eyes piercing. Uh Oh. Werewolf super hearing. So not fair.

“No.” Derek snaps out, tying the knot again before sighing almost in resignation. “No. Sorry I broke the drawstring.” He says in a softer tone. He rubs a hand over his face tiredly, before pushing it through his hair. 

“It’s okay.” And suddenly it is, whatever, tension has been building in the room evaporates. Derek walks over and hands him the clothes he’s dug out.

“Do you need any help?”

“Nah.. I’m good.” He can’t help but flush when he quickly changes, yanking the trackpants on and hauling the t-shirt and hoodie on over his head, knowing that Derek’s getting an eyeful of the Stilinski ‘goods’. He may be his mate and after everything that they’ve done together tonight he can’t believe that he’s actually getting embarrassed, but it’s all still so new and overwhelming. He’s slightly relieved, when Derek turns his head away and gathers up the damp towels and takes them back to the bathroom.

He shuffles back onto his bed, propping the pillows up so he can lean against them and stifles a yawn. Which is when Derek walks back in carrying their clothes. Stiles’ stuff he tosses into the laundry hamper in the corner, with his own he folds them neatly and pops them onto the chair. It’s looking like he’s going to have company tonight and Stiles can’t keep the smile from his face at the thought. 

A shirtless Derek staying in his bedroom. All night. Wow. Just wow.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's taking care of his mate and it satisfies his wolf's protective instincts. Derek, Stiles and the Sheriff have a "talk" because that's what Dad's do when their son is about to start a relationship. The Sheriff is no exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sheriff's scent that I've described includes 'charred oak' this is in reference to the Jack Daniels process of whiskey making that involves the use of charred oak barrels for aging.
> 
> Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. Have been tied up with "The first time" my one-shot that is still going (will I never learn - focus on one fic at a time *sighs*) and also been ill with a virus. Hope that quality control has not been compromised on this, so if you think it's off kilter or screwy blame the fever, because I intend to.
> 
> Unbeta'ed - edited and revised by me, in my plague house.

It’s a close run thing with his wolf… again, when he carries his mate from the bathroom to the bedroom. Derek finds it particularly stimulating, with Stiles safe in his arms wrapped up tightly in the large towels, his protective instincts being satisfied by taking care of him. 

Most of the time Derek doesn’t even think about being nude, it’s just his body no big deal, the thing is it’s obviously a big deal to his mate. Because it is to him, it suddenly is to Derek. Stiles is blushing furiously and there’s a renewed scent of arousal surrounding him and it’s adorable, because it’s tinged with innocence. 

If Stiles only knew what it does to him, knowing that his mate is still a virgin, maybe less so after tonight admittedly, and that no one else has touched him. His wolf is territorial that’s a given, it’s in its’ nature, but Derek, the so-called civilised human, is even more so. It’s primal and instinctive, he will tear apart anyone who thinks to touch Stiles or try and take him away from him and if that makes him an outdated, chauvinistic, caveman of a werewolf then so be it. Stiles is his. All of him.

Stiles’ scent which had been subdued under the running water of the shower is returning full force and Derek has to firmly tell himself not to nuzzle. There will be no more nuzzling, particularly after what’s just happened in the bathroom with Stiles ending up hurt and in pain. It stops here, from now on it’s all about what’s best for Stiles and if that means he has to leave to sleep somewhere else tonight, then that’s how it’s going to be. He clenches his jaw, teeth grinding. He really, really hopes he doesn’t have to though.

“Yeah.. take whatever you need.” Dear God, does he do it on purpose? Or is it him, does he read too much into it. It’s just that Stiles says things, they should be innocent… and yet they just make Derek a little bit crazy. Whatever he needs… hmmn… let him think about it… Stiles, he needs Stiles. His wolf is almost slobbering in agreement. Yipping, yes..yes..yes. 

Then he’s asking “Do you need help?” The thought of those long slender fingers at his groin, fixing the broken drawstring of the pants he’s wearing has his cock twitching and he’s snapping at his mate. Feels guilty almost instantly. It’s not Stiles fault that Derek wants him so desperately, that everything he says and does keeps pushing his buttons. His cock has been up and down so many times tonight that he’s starting to wonder if it’s remotely possible for it to get whiplash.

What is he doing? Derek runs his hand over his face and up through his hair. He’s tired. He and Cora had practically driven back to Beacon Hills non-stop from Indiana. What he needs to do is to make sure his mate is comfortable and then get some sleep. They both could use it.

He swears that the disappointment that comes off the teenager when he asks “Can I borrow one of your Dad’s shirts? You know yours don’t fit.” Is almost a tangible thing. 

He thinks Stiles is going to give him an outright ‘no’ but he seems to shake it off, going into his father’s room and returning with a plain white v-neck shirt. It’s a little bit clingy, but nowhere near as skin tight as what some of Stiles’ shirts would be on him.

Stiles is wandering around barefoot, before flopping back onto his bed, and after getting him nice and warm, Derek’s determined not to undo the good work. 

“Put on your socks.”

“Manners much, Mr Wolf. I’m good, my toes like to be free when I’m at home.” Stiles is lying back against a pile of pillows on his bed, legs stretched out as he starts to wriggle his toes furiously. 

When Derek grabs his ankle and drags him effortlessly towards the end of the bed he squawks, arms flapping like a giant mutant parrot, but ends up lying there quite passively when Derek lifts his leg and rests his foot against his broad chest. He wonders if Stiles can feel his heart beating through the sole. Those big golden eyes watch him intently as Derek tugs a sock onto his foot dropping it onto the bed before grabbing his other ankle and doing the same. Derek likes taking care of his mate, a lot. 

Stiles shimmys back on his elbows, looking thoughtful.

“Thanks.” He says, in a low voice. Derek almost preens at his mate’s approval.

“I’m hungry, let’s go down and fix something huh?” says Stiles, he’s suddenly kneeling, hands resting on his thighs. 

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” Derek turns to go, sighing. Stiles kneeling in the middle of his bed. His big, soft bed. Big enough for two. Big enough for two to roll around on and… yep, major button pusher right there.

“Derek..” Stiles says his name in almost a whiny little voice, when he looks back at him, his eyes are huge and hopeful. “Can I have a piggyback?” He pauses for a moment. “Pleeeaaaasssseee. Pretty please.”

Derek can feel his eyebrows rise and… what the hell, if he’s tired then Stiles must be exhausted. He moves closer to the bed and bobs down ready to feel his mate’s body pressed into his back. Then he hears laughter and arms wrap tightly around his shoulders and warm lips press a kiss to his cheek, he’s so confused.

“You were so going to do that, weren’t you?” Stiles looks at him with a mischievous spark in his eyes. “You must love me.” Derek huffs, but he can’t help the small smile that escapes when Stiles grabs his hand to climb off the bed and doesn’t let go, leading him downstairs to the kitchen.

 

Derek tries to get him to sit down at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, but Stiles is too hungry to sit still for that, just props himself against the cabinet as Derek starts checking the fridge and pantry.

“I’m starving, feel like I’ve not eaten in days, weeks..” He stops dead. Derek has dropped the spatula he’s holding and is looking at him with the most horrified, stricken expression and Stiles realises what he’s just said. He swiftly picks up the spatula off the floor and puts his hand on Derek’s arm.

“No, don’t think that. I swear I’ve eaten today and yesterday and the day before that. Maybe not as much as I should’ve, but I didn’t starve myself like you’re thinking. Okay. Believe me.” Stiles tries to send truth through their bond and slowly, slowly he feels the tension in the muscular arm under his hand lessen and the expression on his face eases and is almost back to his normal stoic look. He’s starting to get quite good at that, doesn’t even need to close his eyes, can locate that conduit in his chest easily.

He thanks his lucky stars the next instant that he still has a hold of Derek’s arm when he feels him, otherwise his ass would’ve hit the floor. Stiles can feel him inside, this isn’t like the ‘knowing’, the awareness he has of Derek in pain, this is different. It’s a gentle breeze, covered in a pelt of fur and it brings with it relief, wrapped in tenderness and longing and it takes his breath away as it moves through him, leaves him reeling in its wake.

“Derek.” He whispers, stunned. Was this how it felt for Derek? My God, it hits him like a tonne of bricks. They are mates and this is what mates feel and do. They know each other.. intimately. He realises that earlier tonight he was wanting to climb into Derek’s skin, to know and feel everything that Derek does. Looks like he got his wish.

He tilts his head forward and slightly up and presses his lips softly against Derek’s. 

Derek’s head is spinning. Stiles is kissing him, it’s soft and gentle and he melts. The burning desire that he always feels in Stiles presence has eased back, has gentled into a loving sweetness that makes his heart ache and his soul hunger.

For the brief moment he believed that Stiles was literally starving, he was in anguished denial that he had caused this. Stiles instinctive reaction to use the mate bond to ease his mind and his pain leaves him feeling unsteady and hopeful.

“Thank you.” Stiles says after, pulling his head back to look into Derek’s eyes.

“What for?” Derek’s puzzled, why is Stiles thanking him.

“For letting me see, letting me feel the real you.”

“Oh.” He can feel himself start to blush. Stiles undoes him. “You’re welcome.. that is a good thing isn’t it?.”

“Yeah, lets go with that. Now what are we going to cook?” Stiles twirls the spatula in his hand.

It ends up being breakfast. Derek convinces Stiles that with a shrunken stomach he can’t overload it too much, so they start with scrambled eggs on a slice of toast and a couple of rashers of bacon from Stiles’ secret freezer stash. Derek wants him to have protein and carbs to build him up. The smell of cooking bacon makes Stiles stomach knot and twist. 

“You know I’m going to have to air out the house. My Dad can sniff out bacon like a hound dog.” Stiles proceeds to do an impersonation of a hound dog which somehow ends up sounding like a cross between a howl and a yodel which makes Derek wince. He slaps a broad hand across Stiles mouth.

“No.. Just no. The only howling that will be done around here from now on is by wolves and.. possibly you when I have my wicked way with you and even then I’ll probably have to kiss you to keep you quiet. There will be no hound dogs.” The smile he gives Stiles is positively lethal. It’s all teeth and his eyebrows of mass destruction are cocked just so making Stiles eyes bug out above the hand that is currently pressed to his mouth. He bites the fleshy part of the palm just below Derek's thumb and his eyes open even further when claws instantly pop out on the fingertips of that hand.

“Stiles.” The low rumble of his name has Stiles stirring restlessly. “No biting. Or I’ll start biting back.”

“Oooohh.”

Derek watches Stiles blush and it does things to his confidence, knowing that his mate finds him attractive and is more often than not so overwhelmed when they are together that he can’t hide it. Stiles' body gives him away every time. In some ways it is a good thing that Stiles isn’t a wolf because then he would realise just how badly Derek’s body gives him away all the time too.

“Enough.. we need food… more specifically you need food.” Derek turns back to the cooktop and lights the gas trying to ignore Stiles singing softly behind him..

“You ain’t nothing but a hound dog.. crying all the time. You ain’t nothing but a hound dog..”

Derek can’t help the smile that crosses his face. Stiles is his mate and he is the luckiest wolf in the world.

 

“Stiles.” A low voice is calling his name softly and there’s a weight on his hip, a heavy hand shaking him.

“Mmmmffff.” Yeah, that’ll tell ‘em for trying to wake him up so god damn early. 

Stiles stretches languidly, wrapping his arms around his pillow. He’s had the best nights’ sleep since… well he can’t actually recall, because usually there’s some sort of supernatural monster of the week bullshit going on and if it’s not that, it’s because of… oh my god… Derek freakin’ Hale. The very same Derek Hale who… and they had… and penises were involved… it’s burnt into his memory forever. Now his sourwolf was trying to wake him up so they could… oh yeeeaaaah… he was a sex god and Derek so wanted a piece of this.

Stiles bolts upright and wraps his arms around the man perched on the edge of his bed giving him a lingering, smacking kiss on the lips.

“I love you soooo” Not Derek. Not Derek. He pulls back. Does not smell like mate. Does not compute. The scent is safe and familiar, it’s clean and composed of soap, charred oak and gun oil. “Soooo much Dad.” He finishes, lamely.

He opens sleep stained eyes to see his Dad looking at him in bemusement. 

“Yes. My Dad… sitting here on my bed and..” He darts a quick covert glance around his bedroom. There are no werewolves in sight. How did his life get to this point where he even has to check for something like that? “Just you and me... Together.”

A large strong hand pats him on the back. “I love you too Stiles. I know it’s a Saturday, but don’t you think you should be getting up now. It’s nearly 3.30.”

“What?” Stiles leans back against his pillows, can’t believe it. He’d slept practically the whole day away when he could’ve been spending it with Derek. Unless, Derek didn’t want… no no no he’s not going to start messing his head again with thoughts like that. One thing at a time. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay. You needed your sleep.” The sheriff reaches up to place his hand on the top of Stiles’ head, ruffling his hair gently before letting it slide down to cup his son’s cheek. “It’s working. This is the best you’ve looked in a long time.”

Stiles wishes he could tell his Dad, that the majority of it is due to Derek. He slept the night in his wolf’s arms and he’s never felt so rested in his life. He wants to tell him that Derek’s back and Stiles may not know where he is at this exact moment, but he’s feeling confident and peaceful just knowing that he’s in the same town. He doesn’t say anything. He remembers the lies from before, how it had almost driven a wedge between them. That’s not going to happen again. He’ll tell his Dad when he’s got it figured out himself first.

Stiles and his Dad look at each other silently. It’s been a long time since they’ve had a shared moment just the two of them, without one or the other of them having to rush off somewhere. Without one of them being kidnapped, tortured or hurt.

This time when Stiles leans forward to wrap his arms around the other man, it’s with intent and the knowledge that he just wants a hug from his Dad. After the longest time, slowly, almost reluctantly his Dad draws back and stands up next to the bed.

“I’ve got to get ready for work.” He pauses at the bedroom door, looking back at his fragile son lying in his bed. 

“We’re going to pretend that those marks on the hallway floor are from your lacrosse cleats and not the clawmarks I know they are.” He’s speaking so matter of factly, that it takes Stiles a moment or two to register what he’s saying and when he does, Stiles can feel he’s doing his best goldfish impersonation as his mouth opens and closes rapidly, but he can’t say a word.

Seriously, his Dad does not miss a thing. 

“And Derek you’re welcome to join us for a family dinner as soon as I finish nightshift.” His Dad is standing there like he’s talking to a ghost, his head slightly tilted to the ceiling as if he’s waiting for a response.

Stiles almost falls out of bed. His Dad is beyond amazing. Three words. Super werewolf hearing.

“You can come in the house while I’m not here, because you’re seriously starting to frighten some of the neighbours with your lurking.” Stiles is reeling, because WTF. Derek’s being a creeper for him. It does run in the family and it sorta makes him want to smile.

“Thank you, Sir.” Derek is suddenly there, climbing through his bedroom window, before coming to stand by his bedside. It’s ever so subtle, because the rest of him is standing so casually, but Derek’s hand that hangs at his side gives the minutest flex. Stiles can feel what Derek wants. He reaches up and puts his hand into Derek’s, their fingers entwining. It’s comforting even if it does make his heart beat faster. His Dad’s stern gaze fixes on their joined hands. 

“I don’t need to tell you that Stiles’ birthday is still a couple of months away. His 18th birthday.” The inference is clear and Stiles is blushing that this conversation is even happening. 

“I understand, Sir.” There’s a tone in Derek’s voice and Stiles inwardly groans. Oh for pete’s sake, does his wolf have to be so honourable. His Dad obviously hears it too, because his face lightens momentarily before it darkens again and this time it’s a little bit scary. His Dad can be one scary dude, particularly where Stiles is concerned. His hand tightens around Derek’s.

“Good. How long do you intend to stay in Beacon Hills?” 

“This is home.” Derek glances down at Stiles. “It’s for good now, Sir.”

“Because if you intend to leave, do it now before…” The sheriff pauses, his eyes trace over Stiles too thin features. “Before someone gets hurt, because this time it won’t be Stiles. Do you understand me?” His voice is almost unrecognisable it’s so cold.

“Dad.. it’s okay. I’m okay. It was a big misunderstanding.” Stiles is a little bit in awe of his Dad, because he’s just threatened a werewolf with serious damage if he hurts his son again. But, he doesn’t want his Dad and his mate at odds with each other either, they’re both too important to him.

“It’s not okay Stiles. I hurt you.. I may have thought I was doing it for all the right reasons.. keeping you safe and letting you have a normal life, but I still hurt you. That’s unforgiveable.” Derek is looking down into his mate’s face and says the words that Stiles has never heard cross his lips in relation to himself before. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say, there aren’t words really. He squeezes his mate’s hand and finds that place inside himself that begins the cord of communion between them and pushes out his love and acceptance. Derek’s whole body stiffens and his hand clutches Stiles’ tightly, almost painfully. He looks down at his mate, his eyes flashing blue and Stiles can see the adoration that Derek has for him in their depths. 

Stiles shivers at the responsibility. The vulnerability that Derek carries with him now, is because of him. He can’t bear the thought of ever letting his mate down or disappointing him and that’s a definite possibility, because… well, he’s Stiles. There’s always a possibility, many many of them. Things have been known to happen to him, he’s starting to feel like a magnet for the supernatural.

The sheriff has been watching this whole exchange closely, listening and examining their body language. The worry that he’s been holding inside since last night, when he discovered that Derek Hale was back in town has vanished. It’s more than obvious that the boy’s head over heels for his son and Stiles is just as smitten. The way they are looking at each other as they hold hands, it makes tears start to well in his eyes as he wishes Claudia was here to see their son in love. 

If they slip up and cross the underage line he could almost understand, whatever is between them is so powerful, but somehow he doesn’t think he has to worry. Derek is committed to protecting Stiles, even from himself and the way he spoke it sounded very much to him that the boy was giving him his word.

“There will be no misunderstandings between us. I think we’re both clear on where we stand.” ‘Regarding Stiles’, is left unsaid, but it’s understood. “Isn’t that right Derek?” 

The two most important men in Stiles’ life look at each other for the longest time, silent messages between them, that Stiles can’t interpret and he starts to twitch uncontrollably.

“Yes Sir.” Derek says eventually.

“There’s going to be some rules if you two are together but we can talk about that further, over dinner on Monday night. Okay? But, I really need to get ready.”

The two boys nod as he turns away, mumbling under his breath. He hears a loud huff of laughter as he walks down the hallway, followed by Stiles saying “What? What are you laughing at? What?”

He smiles. Relieved and thankful. His son might just be okay now.

 

Derek’s been patrolling the neighbourhood around Stiles’ house since about 6.30 in the morning, he'd snuck out when the Sheriff had gotten home from duty. He’s not been bored though. It’s actually given him time to think. Time to think about the previous night, while he listens to Stiles regular breathing as he sleeps, he can easily do that within a few streets of the Stilinski home.

After he’d managed not to be distracted any further by his mate the previous evening, they’d sat down at the dining table and ate their late night breakfast. Stiles had only been able to eat half, but Derek knows it’s going to take a while for his stomach to return to normal after it’s shrunk over time, so he’s not too disappointed. Much.

Pushing his plate away, Stiles had laid his head on his bicep after stretching his arm out towards Derek, across the wooden table, letting their fingers entwine. Just the feel of Stiles’ hand in his, those eyes the colour of drippin’ golden honey sleepily watching his every move as he finished eating and he felt like he was in heaven. The food tasted better than what it was, he should know he’d cooked it, his mate was safe, warm and content and Derek was.. Derek was happy. Happy and scared. Scared because now he had so much more to lose.

When Stiles’ eyes had finally drooped closed and not opened again, Derek had gathered the sleeping teenager into his arms and carried him to his bed. He’d not been able to sleep much, the excitement of being with his mate had kept him awake. Sharing Stiles’ bed with the boy in his arms had been too much for his wolf and it had just wanted to inhale his mate, absorb him into his very system. Drenching himself in the scent of oranges, vanilla and chocolate. 

Their legs were entwined and Stiles head was pillowed on his chest. The feel of Stiles’ breath puffing across his chest had been a delight and a torment all at the same time. He thinks he may have got a couple of hours with his face pressed hard into Stiles’ neck, just breathing him in.

Hearing the Sheriff inviting him into their house in the afternoon had sent him into a tailspin. His mate's father had requested his presence. If a werewolf could hyperventilate it would be happening right about now. The only thing that had kept him grounded when he entered the bedroom was Stiles and the moment he slid his hand into Derek's, his chest had relaxed easing the squeezed tight feeling that had settled there. He was in awe that his mate understood him so well.

He and the Sheriff understood each other very well now too. He felt that they were in total agreement. Stiles' wellbeing was their sole focus and priority. Nothing was to harm the boy and anything that tried to was going to have to answer to Stiles' mate and his father. It wasn't going to be easy, they both knew that. Derek hadn't been able to control the laugh that burst out of him when he'd heard the older man mutter under his breath, so Stiles didn't hear him, as he walked out of Stiles' bedroom.

"Good luck Derek, you're going to need it to keep up with Stiles. He's always run rings around me, God knows."

Derek never had a chance to talk about everything they needed to, particularly being mates and his Uncle Peter. Today, he's going to sit Stiles down and not let him distract him. Not too much. He can only hope.

He still can’t believe this is happening. He’d only come back to Beacon Hills to make sure Stiles was okay, he’d never had any intention of going beyond that and staking a claim on him as his mate. He has a feeling though that this is what his life is going to be like from now on, that his world will regularly get tipped on its’ axis now that Stiles is an intimate, essential part of it. 

He’s not quite sure that Stiles fully understands just how essential.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their talk with Stiles' Dad, Derek and Stiles are in the family room of the Stilinski home. Derek is determined to have a proper discussion with Stiles about werewolves and their mates, when he realises that Stiles is feeling very guilty about something.. something to do with Peter and he needs to find out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos and such kind comments - you make my day, seriously.
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> 
> All I'll say about this chapter is - it's not what you think. 
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> Unbeta'ed - 'coz that's how I roll.

“Mates don’t keep secrets from one another.” Stiles frowns disapprovingly at Derek, who just gives him a look with his eyebrows that screams inscrutable. Stiles lasts at least another 30 seconds before he starts to beg. 

“Come on Derek, please. What did Dad say? Go on tell me.”

“No.”

“Awww come on man. You’re killing me here. Is that what you want? Really any second now I’m just gonna… gonna.. Derek.. urk!” Stiles starts to flop around on the couch like a stranded flounder, hands clutching his throat and his eyes bugging out wide before he collapses across its length. His body stills, until he jerks with little spasms before letting out an extremely unconvincing death rattle, at least that’s what Derek thinks it’s meant to be, he could be mistaken. Anything’s possible with Stiles. 

He has to turn his head away to hide his smile when he sees that Stiles has opened one eye to check what effect his demise has had upon his mate.

“Really. Seriously, you’re not going to tell me are you?” Stiles struggles to pull himself up and props his body up against the arm of the couch, drawing his knees up to his chest. It’s really rather endearing Derek decides, those long gangly limbs tucking into his body, elbows and knees bowing outward. He reminds Derek of a baby giraffe. A grouchy baby giraffe he amends when he sees Stiles' pout. So cute.

“No.”

Stiles huffs out a breath in irritation, feeling it flutter up his face to ruffle an errant lock of hair that’s fallen across his forehead.

“Can you say anything else besides ‘NO’?” 

“Yes.” Derek doesn’t hide that he’s smiling, which is practically laughing in sourwolf terms, at Stiles.

Stiles can feel his lips twitch and he’s up and throwing himself against the hard body of his mate who has commandeered the opposite end of the couch. His body slightly turned, one foot on the floor and his other leg bent across the seat cushion, knee touching the back of the couch leaving a little hollow of space between his thighs, which is where Stiles lands. It ends up with Stiles pressed against Derek from chest to groin.

“Big Bad’s gotta sense of humour, huh?” Stiles whispers against Derek’s lips, delighting in the way he feels Derek suck in a breath of air like the room’s suddenly running out of oxygen. He tilts his hips and the muscles clench tight in his abs and stomach when he realises that Derek’s gotten practically instantly hard, with that magnificently huge cock making the biggest ridge in the older man’s jeans. Zero to sixty, just like that and it’s so hot, Stiles is almost dizzy, because he knows that he’s doing this to Derek. He’s the one that pushes Derek’s buttons taking away his control.

Stiles slides his tongue between his lips to delicately probe at Derek’s. Heat washes over him when Derek instantly opens his mouth and lets Stiles in. He tastes like toothpaste and cinnamon and… it’s hot and wet and Stiles can’t help but groan his appreciation at all the wonderful flavours that Derek is. 

Or is it appreciation that Derek’s lifted one hand to gently cup Stiles’ jaw, thumb under his chin, his long fingers stretched the length of his cheek stroking his skin. Or that he’s reached back with one large, heavy hand and is palming Stiles’ ass through his chino’s, pressing down then releasing him, down and release. Derek’s encouraging Stiles to rock against him in a rhythm that has his head spinning, ‘coz all his blood has drained from his head to.. God yeah.. that’s it.. right there. He pushes his swollen, aching length against Derek’s. Fuck.. he appreciates it all.. he really, really does.

“God.. right there Stiles.. right there.” Derek mutters the words against Stiles lips, echoing what’s running through the younger man’s head, as they hump and grind against each other harder, faster.

“If this is how you want to ‘talk’ I’m all for it.” Stiles mumbles back, hips pulsing almost as fast as his heart’s beating. When Derek freezes, Stiles mentally curses. Why did he have to open his big mouth?

Derek slowly, slowly pulls his head back, drawing his lips away from Stiles. Damn it. What just happened? He can’t believe he got distracted by Stiles again, although it’s hard not to when he’s in his lap and licking red-kissed lips and looking at him with amber eyes that have melted into liquid honey.

He gently lifts the boy off his lap and sits him at the far end of the couch and groans aloud when Stiles surges forward his hands clinging to whatever part of Derek he can hang onto, long slender fingers sliding down the back of his collar making tingles race up and down his spine. Stiles’ other hand locks onto his hip and grips it tight trying to pull him down on top of him. Yes.. God yes.. damn.. no he means no.. really it’s no.. he’s fairly certain he means no.

“Stiles.. please. We really need to talk.” Stiles darts in a kiss against the corner of his mouth. It burns. 

“Please.” Derek steps back goes to sit at the other end of the couch, thinks better of it, because look how that just turned out and ends up sitting in an armchair the other side of the coffee table. Drawing in a shaky breath, he runs his hands through his hair.

Stiles is looking delightfully dishevelled. Lips red and puffy, eyes languid and slitted watching his every move. His mate is pure temptation and Derek’s struggling really hard not to succumb, but he made a promise to Stiles' Dad. Not a verbal one, but an unspoken, unwritten one. Man to man. Right now with a boner from hell, he almost wishes he hadn't been so fucking noble.

Derek swallows hard. Where to start?

“What you said about there being no secrets between mates, that’s how it should be. I want you to know everything about what it means to be the mate of a werewolf.” As Derek watches, Stiles looks less sinfully debauched and is shifting restlessly listening, his face thoughtful and almost guilty looking. What for Derek has no idea.

“Like you said last night ‘no more hiding’ between us. Everything needs to be out in the open if we’re starting a.. a relationship.” Derek’s starting to get concerned. There’s a scent that’s coming off Stiles and it makes his nose twitch and.. God what is that? It’s like sour milk. 

Stiles sits forward, hunched over, elbow on knee his hand cupping his chin, the other dangling between his legs towards his ankles his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. As soon as Derek started talking about secrets and hiding he could feel a wave of nausea sweep over him, knowing that he was keeping something so big from his mate. He just didn’t know what would happen if he came out and told him the truth. He was starting to feel a little bit scared and a whole lot guilty.

“Stiles.. what’s wrong?” Derek can’t stand it. The rancid scent coming off Stiles is increasing in intensity and it’s practically making his eyes water. He sends out a tentative probing along their bond and nearly gags. The fear and guilt that is coming from Stiles makes him want to throw up.

“Stiles tell me right now.. what’s going on with you?” Derek isn’t even aware he’s standing until he’s looking down at the top of Stiles head, because the boy’s looking at the floor as if the answers are all within the threads of the carpet and he has to unravel them one by one. 

Stiles darts a quick look up at his face before ducking it back down and rubbing the back of his neck. The fear is just intensifying and Derek can feel his wolf pacing within him. It wants to chase down whatever is causing this feeling in Stiles. Chase it down and kill it. The wolf’s plan is pretty simple and Derek thinks it’s got a lot of merit. Teeth. Throat. Ripping.

Stiles jumps up and he’s moving, can’t sit still. Derek’s looking at him and the bewilderment that’s written on his face just makes it all so much worse. He moves to stand behind the couch, isn’t really conscious that he’s putting a barrier between them until he sees the expression on Derek’s face. It’s hurt and worry bleeding into a rising sense of aggression that he doesn’t even need to feel through their bond, it’s in the way Derek’s eyes have sparked into blue and his canines have lowered. He can’t stand it.. he needs to confess.

“Derek uhm.. before you go any further about this mates thing I.. I need to tell you.. aahh..bout me and Peter.. uh Peter and I.” He can feel himself shifting from foot to foot with nerves, can’t control it because he just doesn’t know how Derek’s gonna react.

“What about you and Peter?” Derek’s rumbling the words out and it sends adrenalin spiking through Stiles’ system, because his mate’s gotta mouthful of sharp teeth which he’s flashing widely at him.

Derek lifts his shoulders rolling his head as he cracks his neck first one way then tilts his head the other way to crack it again. It’s so fuckin’ badass that Stiles can only gape, half in awe and half in terrified lust that this wolf is his.

“He cornered me in the parking lot after practice a week after you left… I didn’t want to.. but he wouldn’t leave me alone.. kept pestering me..” Stiles thinks back to that awful, awful week. 

“I was a mess ya know… you’d left and I.. I was here.” Just thinking about that time and Stiles can feel the memory of his grief roll over him like a tsunami, he’s not aware that it spills over and surges into and through the mate bond. “He said it would help… help me to forget.. and.. holy shit.. Derek what the fuck??” Stiles cries out as Derek has moved so fast that he’s dragged Stiles over the couch and has started pulling at his clothes, his face buried in Stiles neck.

“Where? Where is it?” Derek’s nuzzling and licking his neck furiously. His claws catching and dragging through material, the rasp of tearing fabric sounds especially loud to Stiles ears, it sends a shiver down his spine. Derek has him pinned to the couch and he’s thoroughly running his nose and mouth over every inch of exposed flesh huffing wildly and growling uncontrollably while he does it. Nothing is spared, he snuffles over Stiles’ shoulders before veering down into the all too sensitive armpit, which has Stiles writhing and choking as he tries to stop the giggles that somehow inappropriately want to erupt.

“Tell me Stiles.” Derek demands as he drags the last piece of material from his mate’s body. He’s torn and ripped off every piece of clothing until Stiles is completely nude, trapped beneath the heavy weight of his seemingly ‘out of his ever fucking mind’ mate. 

“What? Tell you what?” Stiles asks becoming increasingly more desperate. This is kinda hot, his mate running his face over his chest and lower to his stomach, but there’s something about Derek, the tension and barely restrained fury he can sense in him, that tells him this isn’t foreplay, this isn’t sexy times.. it’s serious mate bond shit and it’s scaring him almost as much as it’s turning him on.

“Where’s the mark? Stiles tell me right now.” Derek’s eyes are blazing down at him, it’s a conundrum he’ll have to think about later that the electric ice blue of Derek’s beta eyes are able to project such scorching heat at him he can literally feel his skin prickle like he’s gotten too much sun.

“What mark?” He can’t think because Derek’s nosing around his groin now and oh.. holy.. oh.. oh.. he’s pushing his face against his cock and balls. Tongue flicking out and tasting the fuzz of hair that covers his sac. Stiles growing arousal from all the touching and nuzzling is now a full blown weighty erection, pre-cum leaking out of the slit at the head and dribbling into his belly button where it’s lying flat against his stomach. 

When Derek nuzzles under his sac, his nose actually lifts Stiles’ balls to expose the delicate stretch of perineum that leads to his fiercely clenching pucker, Stiles whines. Derek pulls back and shakes his head in confusion.

“I can’t scent..” Growling harshly, he grabs Stiles and flips him, positioning him exactly how he wants him, on his knees facing the back of the couch. Kneeling on the floor behind, Derek holds the back of Stiles’ thighs just below the crease of his ass, his thumbs pull the cheeks apart, claws pressing gently into the delicate firm flesh.

Stiles can’t believe this is happening. Somehow their ‘talk’ has devolved into Stiles completely naked while his mate is fully clothed.. actually.. that is really, really hot and they will seriously have to do this again when Stiles is convinced his mate isn’t out of his head crazy. He’s completely exposed to Derek, hanging onto the back of the couch with trembling hands, his ass cheeks spread so that Derek can see his opening and the hanging weight of his balls below.

“Where did he touch you?” Derek’s rumbling, growling voice goes even lower when he asks. “Did he rape you? Tell me Stiles.” Derek’s hot breath blows across Stiles’ ass and balls and the sensation makes him shiver, goosebumps forming on his sac. He didn’t even know they could there. It takes a moment for Stiles to realise what Derek has said because his body keeps trying to override his mind, telling him that this is all good, and while it is, Stiles knows that it isn’t at the same time. There is something desperately wrong and now he knows.

Dawning horror washes over him as he tries to absorb what Derek’s been thinking. He tries to look over his shoulder at his mate, he can’t move because Derek’s grip is so firm.

“Derek.. that’s not what.. DerEEEEK.” Stiles squeals as a hot wet flat tongue licks a scorching trail from his balls along the crack of his ass to swirl firmly against the rose pucker of his anus, letting it penetrate slightly and rasp the thousands of nerve endings that are housed at the entrance before pulling back. 

Stiles wails, feels like he’s been punched in the guts. 

He’s feeling way too much from a part of his body that he’d never given a thought to in that regard. Sure when he’d been playing with himself, enjoying Stiles’ special alone time, he may have rubbed his hole as he jacked off, maybe even slipped a finger in part way, but this was as far removed from that as pecking your maiden aunt on the cheek was to tongue kissing the hottest cheerleader in the backseat of a parked car, not that he’s done either mind you. 

It’s light years apart and he can’t cope, it’s too intense. He’s fighting the blissful sensations and that translates into physically fighting the cause of this unexpected and mind blowing experience.

“What the fuckin’ hell?” Stiles reaches out searching for a weapon, twists and starts to frantically beat the wolf around the head with a chocolate brown velour cushion. “Give a guy some warning why don’t cha?”

Derek’s surprised enough that Stiles has a chance to scramble away from where the werewolf is kneeling and huddles in the corner of the couch, cushion strategically covering his bits. He’s trembling and panting, it’s hard to catch a breath when it feels like his heart’s about to explode. Too late. Boom! There it goes.

“Stiles.. I’m sorry.. I should’ve realised..” Derek is shaken to his core. The last time he’d been this distraught, this devastated he’d lost his family. Stiles has been abused by Peter. Derek’s heartbroken for him.

He can’t quite work out how, because he’s not caught any of his scent on Stiles, anywhere, and he’d been extremely thorough. There are no markings either, so Peter hasn’t claimed him, which Derek is relieved about. If he had he would’ve claimed Stiles too and then when he killed Peter, Peter’s claim would disappear only leaving Derek’s.

The things Stiles has said are indicating Peter used a lot of coercion and put pressure on Stiles when he was particularly vulnerable. Vulnerable because he’d left him alone. Idiot.. idiot. Derek groans aloud, when he recalls Stiles’ reaction at having his ass touched. He’d cried out and then fought him. A victim not wanting to be victimised again. 

He cringes inside at his own sick desires, because he can still taste Stiles musky scent on his tongue, dark chocolate and vanilla, it’s tarter, richer. It’s bittersweet and he wants more, craves it. He’s still hard as a rock in his jeans and he still wants to push his cock deep inside that tight, sweet hole and fuck him. Fuck Stiles till he screams. Fuck him till he comes just from the feel of Derek’s cock riding him hard.

Derek grabs his head, claws tangling in his hair, the thoughts that are running through it are wild and crazed. The need for vengeance on behalf of his mate rakes at his gut alongside the guilty desires. 

He doesn’t realise he’s rocking back and forth on his heels keening in mourning for Stiles’ violation until he feels sweet lips press against his and he comes back to himself. Stiles has moved to kneel in front of Derek and cups his face and gently, gently pushes his tongue into Derek’s mouth ignoring the sharp teeth and teases the tip of his wolf’s tongue with his own. 

“Stiles..” Derek pulls back looking into his mate’s eyes.

“Derek. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong.” Stiles grabs his arm tightly as Derek shakes his head.

“No. I know.. don’t worry anymore baby.. I’m going to kill him.” 

“No Derek. Stop this. Will you just listen to me.” He grabs Derek by both arms and tries to shake him, but so not happening with a supernaturally strong werewolf. Sighing at his own foolishness, Stiles presses his forehead into Derek’s and looks into his eyes willing him to believe. 

The agony the older man had displayed, rocking his body while this terrible noise came from deep in his chest, a whining moan had brought Stiles before his mate. He'd been shocked, there was no denying that, but he couldn't let his mate suffer like this, so he'd kissed him. Even knowing where Derek's mouth and tongue had been didn't deter him, the fact that he could taste a heady, muskier flavour on his mate's tongue had surprisingly caused a knot of heat to form low in his belly.

He’s trying to feel Derek through the bond but terrifyingly it’s blocked. Derek’s closed off their connection. How is that possible? Stiles has come to rely on it and its only been 24 hours since he came home from training and found a wolf in his bedroom. Fear is rippling through him. He needs Derek, needs all of him. Body, heart, soul and mind, Stiles wants it all.

“Derek. I have not had sex, willing or unwilling, with anyone but you and believe me I’m definitely willing when it comes to you.” Derek just blinks.

“Stiles.. don’t.” He can’t bear to have his mate trying to comfort him when it should really be the other way around.

“Why have you closed me out? Please..” Stiles can feel his eyes are welling with tears and he’s so not going to cry, not in front of Derek. Needs to be strong for his mate. “I need to feel you.. I need to feel you here.” Stiles touches his chest with one hand before reaching out with his other and placing it on the hard muscled chest of his mate. Heat radiates through the soft cotton of his t-shirt warming Stiles’ palm.

“No.. never close you out. You’re mine Stiles.. mine.” Derek places his larger hands over the top of Stiles and they cover each other’s hearts, pressing hard into their flesh, linking them physically. Derek lets go of his fear and anger which he’s using to block feeling Stiles. “Couldn’t bear to feel your grief.”

It’s a rushing wave and slams into them both making them sway with the force and Derek’s head is spinning as the burst of light that he always feels when Stiles connects with him, fills him, floods through his entire being. There is an ethereal quality to Stiles essence when it travels into him, wrapping itself around him letting him know that the almost champagne-like bubbles of orange scent that fizz and tease his senses harbour no darkness. None that Deaton had warned of from Stiles’ sacrifice and none that would be there if Stiles had been assaulted. Relief is a living palpable thing and he sags under its weight.

Stiles is crying. Tears rolling slowly down his face and he can feel his hair on his scalp lift and ruffle as the strong fresh breeze that is Derek blows through him. The fur rubs him from the inside and it’s soothing and calming until Stiles is only just sniffling. Stiles pulls and draws and tugs every ounce of love that is in him for his mate and pushes it out, pushes it down that line of communion until he can feel Derek sagging against him.

“Stiles..” Derek croaks as he simply tips over, limbs loose, and lies on the floor writhing in the bliss that it is to feel just how much love his mate has for him. His beta form dissolves and it’s just Derek bathing in warmth, love and light. All from his Stiles. He tugs on the hands he’s holding and Stiles lets himself go and falls sprawling on top of his body.

Their hearts are beating furiously and breaths come in laboured pants and Stiles pushes his face into Derek’s neck and with his blunt human teeth latches onto the pulse there, holding it firmly. Derek groans in surrender, arcing his neck further pushing his flesh against Stiles mouth and teeth. It’s the ultimate trust for a wolf to bare his throat to another. He doesn’t hesitate for Stiles.

Stiles nips and mouths along the tendons before pulling back slightly and letting his hot breath blow against the moisture he’s left behind. The sensation has Derek shuddering beneath him.

“Peter did not rape me. Peter and I have never had sex. I have never had sex with anyone but you. Do you hear me?” Stiles asks Derek his voice raspy, his throat feeling raw from emotions. 

Derek slowly nods his head. “There is something between you though.. isn’t there?”

“Yes. Nothing physical because eww… have to say it Derek, you Hales are a good looking bunch but at heart you’re all creepers. You watch and lurk in the shadows and the worst of you all is Peter.” Stiles shudders and Derek doesn’t think it’s for effect.

“Why the fear then? What has you so worried and guilty that it changes your scent so drastically? I have it on very good authority that ‘mates don’t keep secrets from each other’.” Derek runs his hand up the long smooth line of Stiles’ spine, revelling in the texture of his skin, but this is part of the reason Stiles collapsed last night, getting chilled, so he gently moves Stiles to one side and pulls off his t-shirt and drops it over his mates’ head.

Stiles sighs as the warmth wraps around him and unconsciously tugs the collar up to his nose and inhales deeply, drawing the forest cinnamon scent of his mate deep into his lungs. Derek chuffs in approval, wrapping his arms around the boy and nuzzles into his throat.

“Derek, Peter and I.. we’ve done something and I don’t know if you’re going to be happy with it.. us.. or not and I’m just afraid that I’ve stuffed up. You see I’m good at that..” He lifts amber eyes to look into the light green of Derek’s wanting the other man to see how genuine he is. “and I don’t want to with you. I don’t want to hurt or disappoint you.”

“What is it? What are you afraid to tell me?” Derek’s mind is racing, but if it’s not his worst case scenario of Peter trying to force himself and a claim onto Stiles then all else can be dealt with.

“It’s better if I show you.” Derek lifts his eyebrows quizzically. Stiles presses his lips to Derek’s in a fleeting kiss before standing. 

“I need to get dressed AGAIN seeing as a certain Mr Grabby Claws destroyed my clothes.” He walks to the hallway before pulling off Derek’s t-shirt and throwing it back at him. His body, pale and lean, his ass a rounded bubble of perfection. Derek’s mouth waters and he growls in appreciation at the sight. Stiles looks over his shoulder at the sound.

Derek locks eyes with Stiles. 

“Can I still kill him if I don’t like it?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek get frisky in the driveway of the Stilinski home. The sexy Camaro makes a reappearance and Stiles gets to drive it on the way to meet Peter. Something old is new again and Peter lets slip some very interesting facts about werewolf/human relationships which cause Stiles to freak out. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for all the readers who commented on my last chapter - you guys are just too smart or I'm too obvious - really I'm leaning to the smart factor because everyone knows that TW fans are the bomb!! Smart, cool and funny. I'm so lucky to have you guys on board with this.
> 
>  
> 
> Unbeta'ed - you know the drill.

Stiles can’t believe he’s driving the Camaro. It’s powerful and responds to the lightest touch, a sleek panther compared to the sturdy, unwieldy bulk of his Jeep that Stiles is used to.

When they’d left his house Stiles had started to unlock his blue beast, the paint of which still sparkled brightly after its recent stay at the bodyshop, when he’d realised he was blocked in.

“What the..?” Stiles turns to his mate. “I thought you got rid of this when you got the SUV.”

“No. She’s my baby.” He reaches out to stroke the Camaro’s fender lovingly. “Kept her in storage while Cora and I went travelling.”

“Would you two like some alone time?” Stiles almost feels jealous of the way Derek’s eyeing the sexy black car as he rubs at an imaginary smear on the paintwork.

“If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it.”

Stiles can feel his jaw drop, until he sees the smirk on his mate’s face. Who was this teasing man? 

“Who are you? And what have you done with my sourwolf?” He grumbles trying to control the twitch of his lips.

“Am I?” 

“Are you what?” Stiles is confused.

“Am I yours?” Derek gives him an indecipherable look. Stiles may not be able to tell as accurately by Derek’s outward appearance of what he’s feeling, but what he gets through their connection is longing and wild hope wrapped in the musky scent of fur and the cool forest air after a fall of rain. 

Stiles steps into Derek’s space and backs him up against the car. He leans against his mate’s hard muscular body and reaches up to gently cup his face, looking into those kaleidoscope green eyes that draw him in so effortlessly.

“Yes, you’re mine. No one else’s. If anyone tries to touch you.. if anyone tries to take you away from me.. even if it’s you.. trying to leave me..” Stiles pauses and closes his eyes. There’s a sudden wildness in him that wants to claim the man in front of him. Right now. “Believe me when I say it’s not going to be pretty.”

He opens his eyes and sees Derek looking back at him with awe and hunger all over his face, like he desperately wants to be possessed by Stiles so intimately.

“Stiles.. you’re eyes.. they’re blue again.” That’s all it takes for Derek’s own to start glowing and Stiles feels the magnetic pull of their bond drawing him to his mate and he presses his lips to the other man’s. He slides his tongue across Derek’s lips demanding access to the wet heat of his mouth. Groans, deep in his chest when it’s instantly granted.

Does everyone feel like this when they kiss someone they love? That they’re drowning in them, that you would die if they stopped because your heart would simply burst, your lungs collapse and your brain seize. If this is what Scott had felt when he was with Allison, then all is forgiven. Every unanswered call, every cancelled ‘Call of duty’ night and every vague, dazed, bewildered expression when he’d been trying to talk serious stuff to him is now all too understandable. 

Derek tips his head back panting roughly.

“Fuck.. Stiles you don’t know.. how much.. ” His nostrils flare wildly and the blue lightning of his eyes scorch as he traces lovingly the angles and planes of Stiles’ face. 

“Yes I do.. I do know.” Stiles croons back as he nips and nibbles the older man’s jawline, enjoying the rasp of his stubble against his tongue. “I know because I feel it too.”

Derek moans hotly and grabs Stiles face between his hands and kisses him wildly, his tongue is fucking into his mouth and his hips are echoing the rhythm. He’s growling, low and hungry. He’s never going to last until Stiles’ turns 18. Everything the boy says and does just makes him want him more and more.

A jarring vibrating beep from Stiles phone jolts them out of the haze of desire and longing that they’ve been lost in. Stiles pulls it out of his pocket and glances at the display.

“Are you serious?” He steps back from Derek and looks around the driveway and up the street. Derek can feel Stiles’ is anxious and nervous, his mate’s desire dissipating almost instantly, it makes him twitchy.

“What? What’s going on?”

Stiles just lifts his phone and shows him the text message he’s just received.

Dad 5.25pm  
Stop that right now. Our driveway is not the place for that.

The phone beeps again.

Dad 5.26pm  
In fact there’s nowhere that’s the place for that. Behave.

Derek’s admiration of the Sheriff just went up several notches, despite the guilt that prods at his conscience and the fact that his jeans are cutting off the circulation to his swollen cock and balls. 

“How did he know?” Stiles looks around the neighbourhood as does Derek. He can’t spot anything unusual, not by sight, hearing or scent. He shrugs at his mate confounded for the moment.

“Let’s go.” Stiles turns and pops the Camaro’s locks with the security clicker. Sitting in the leather seat, his hands on the steering wheel he turns to his mate shaking his head.

“I can’t believe my Dad has just creeped me out enough to give Peter a run for his money.”

“Who knew?” Derek agrees.

Derek laughs when he reads the text Stiles sends back.

5.28pm Stiles  
Well played, father dearest. Behaving, mostly.

 

They drive through Beacon Hills, Stiles is going almost under the speed limit he’s so cautious. Firstly, because this is Derek’s baby, he knows that, and if there is a mark on it while he’s driving it then a price will be paid. Possibly with his ass. Hmmm it almost might be worth.. he’d have to think on it. Secondly, he’s just so anxious about when they get there, he’s delaying it as much as possible. Is he even going to have a mate by the end of this evening?

“I rang your phone a couple of days ago.” Derek feels the car pull to one side as Stiles’ hands visibly spasm where they sit on the black steering wheel. Stiles corrects automatically while sucking in an audible shaky breath.

“You called me.” Stiles starts to smile, it’s breathtaking. “You called me.” A little laugh escapes him. Derek feels like he’s basking in sunshine, Stiles’ happiness is flooding through their bond, it’s like a drug. Addictive, he wants more. Wants Stiles to always be this happy so he can feel it too.

“I lost my phone about a week ago. There didn’t seem to be much urgency to get another one..” Unspoken is the knowledge that Derek hadn’t responded to any of Stiles’ texts while he was away. Guilt leaves a bitter taste in Derek’s mouth. “So I didn’t bother, but it showed up a couple of days ago in the change rooms at school, I must’ve left it behind.”

Derek’s trying to give his mate some privacy but he can’t help it his ears are automatically tuned in to Stiles’ heartbeat and respiration, even his scent can indicate if he’s not being.. completely truthful. So far it’s all normal and steady.

“Peter answered.”

“He what?” Stiles swerves again, enough that Derek puts his hand on the steering wheel and corrects the direction.

“Do you want me to drive?”

“No.” Stiles chews on his lower lip, Derek can’t stop watching, it’s quite mesmerizing seeing the pearly white teeth nibble on the succulent pink flesh. “You’re telling me that Peter answered my phone when you called a couple of days ago.”

Derek just nods, then realises that Stiles has his focus solely on the road ahead and simply says “Yes.”

“Oh.. What did he say?” Derek’s confused, there is disappointment and sadness coming off Stiles in absolute waves, like a tsunami and all the aftershocks following through. This isn’t what he expected.

“That he was looking after it while you were in the shower.” Stiles slams on the brakes, thankfully they are on a deserted stretch that leads to the woods. Derek jerks forward, thankfully he’s got his seatbelt on because even with werewolf healing he so would’ve been wearing an imprint of the dashboard on his forehead if he hadn’t.

“That.. that.. oooh.. that creepiest creeper ever.” Stiles snorts, breathing out an agitated breath of air.

“So you weren’t in the shower then?” Derek breathes out a sigh of relief.

“Yes I probably was..” Derek growls low, relief quickly changed into jealousy. “Hush now.. you know it’s not like that. I’d actually been working and.. look why am I explaining you’ll see in a minute.” Stiles admonishes him and Derek shuts up because he can still feel that Stiles isn’t happy not like he’d been five minutes before. He wants that happy Stiles back, but doesn’t know what happened to drive him away.

Stiles accelerates and they drive in silence and Derek can feel his spine tingle. It always does when he’s back in Hale territory. It’s home.

When they turn onto Hale Road, his family has been in the town for generations, so long that even if this road had started out with a different name over time it simply became known by the sole family that lived at the end of it. He almost knows what he’s going to see.

They round the bend and Derek chokes out a sob, which he tries to stifle but he can’t. He’s breathing great big huffs of air because he’s feeling so lightheaded. 

Stiles stops the car momentarily to let him absorb it and reaches across and takes his trembling hand. Actually they’re both trembling, for differing reasons, Stiles because he’s worried about his mate’s reaction and Derek because he’s home. The feel of their mate anchors them both.

“I want you to always have a home you can come back to.” Stiles says the words quietly as Derek just looks through the windscreen at the house. 

Dusk is falling and the Hale family home glows with welcoming light scattered throughout the new unbroken windows of different rooms. The lamps on the outside of the house are also lit and he can see the fire damaged boards have been replaced and repainted in gleaming white with forest green trim on the architraves and frames. Derek is home.

Stiles drives closer and parks in front of the steps that lead to the front porch. 

Derek can’t move. He can see his family home and it’s almost perfect. The only way it would ever be completely perfect is if his Mom opened the front door to stand on the porch as she used to and would welcome him home with a hug. He can’t breathe when a dark figure does exactly that. The front door is left ajar and the light streams out flooding the porch. 

Derek blinks his eyes furiously getting them to adjust and realises with aching disappointment that it’s his Uncle standing there waiting. That would be one miracle too many, the mere fact that he is sitting here with his true mate is more than he ever dreamt of and he’s grateful to whatever divine powers there may be in the universe that they’ve brought Stiles into his life.

He swings his head back and sees Stiles trying to mask a look of anxiety and concern on his face as he watches for his reaction. Reaching out he grabs both of Stiles hands drawing them in between their bodies, cupping them within his own larger ones. He lowers his head and buries his face in Stiles’ palms gently kissing every inch of skin, breathing in his mate’s overwhelming scent of oranges, vanilla and chocolate letting it fill his senses and suddenly, it’s all beyond his control as the first tear falls. 

“Thank you.. thank you..” Derek murmurs over and over again pressing Stiles’ hands hard against his face, his tears falling onto some callouses that he now realises are newly formed. The evidence of Stiles hard work on his body and in the very building behind him. He doesn’t deserve this boy, this teenager who didn’t abandon him even when he’d been gone for such a long time.

Derek doesn’t cry. At least Stiles has never seen it before. He’d seen the unrelenting agony on his face at Boyd’s death, the devastating sadness when they found Erica’s body and the constant pain he’d endured from injuries and wounds too countless to mention. But, he’d never seen him break down and cry until now.

Stiles watches the strongest man he knows bow his head, hunched over before him, and weep into his hands that capture each and every tear and will hold each precious one in his heart. They are the rarer than any jewel.

Gently, Stiles raises his mate’s head and pulls away his fingers, sucking in a shaky breath. Christ, he’s so beautiful even when he has tears trickling down his face, it makes Stiles' heart ache and his stomach clench tight. 

If it had been Stiles he would be puffy eyed, blotchy red patches on his skin and snot streaming out of his nose, but Derek’s skin looks just a little paler against his dark stubble and his green eyes shimmer brightly. 

He’s beautiful and perfect and Stiles’ can’t believe Derek’s letting him see this vulnerable, human side of himself. He pushes out what he hopes feels like love and comfort into their bond, hopes that Derek will feel like he’s being wrapped in a warm blanket. Thinks he succeeds when a soft sigh eases past his mate’s lips. 

Stiles uses the tips of his fingers to brush away the wet tracks down the planes of his face before leaning in and kissing each trembling eyelid feeling the delicate flutter of eyelashes against his lips.

With a last gentle brush of his lips against Derek’s, Stiles leans back.

“Do you want to see inside?” He asks quietly, not wanting to pressure the other man either way.

“Yes.. God yes.” Derek replies.

The minute they step out of the car Derek changes. Stiles can see it happen before his very eyes. The vulnerability is gone and the protective instincts of a wolf are definitely in place as he angles his body between Stiles and Peter, watching his Uncle warily from the bottom of the porch steps.

“Derek and… Stiles.” There’s a lilting intonation in the way Peter says Stiles name, it’s too friendly and too intimate and sets Derek’s wolf off.

“Peter.” Derek’s growling and his eyes are flashing blue in warning. 

“Oh now, now.. no need to get all growly we’re all family here.. or soon to be family.” He looks at Stiles, draws in a breath, that Stiles recognises as a scenting one, and quirks an eyebrow at Derek. “You’ve not claimed him yet?” 

“No. He doesn’t know exactly what it means to be mated to a werewolf.”

Peter folds his arms and rolls his eyes. 

“It’s not that hard Derek. You mate.. you knot.. you’re tied together forever.. he can leave, you can’t but you’ll die if he does.. I think that’s pretty straight forward.” He looks at Stiles. “Do you know what it means to be mated to a werewolf Mr Stilinski?”

“You can die if I leave you?” Stiles is horrified. This is.. this is.. he has no words. He will literally have the power of life and death over Derek.

“I think he’s got it.” Peter smiles like he’s done them all a big favour.

“Shut up.” Derek and Stiles speak in unison.

“What if I need to go away and.. and visit an Aunt in Baltimore or something?”

“Do you have an Aunt in Baltimore?” Derek growls.

“No.. but you know what I mean.”

“It doesn’t work like that, we can travel apart quite freely. When he says ‘leave’ he means reject our bond.. close it off completely.. forever.” Derek looks sad as if he can picture it happening already. 

“I can do that.. shut it down?” Stiles needs to get it clear in his head, because God forbid he accidentally kill his mate in the middle of an argument or something. “Like if we’re having a fight.. would you die straight away?”

“No it would take longer than that and I think even if we were having an argument it wouldn’t get to that point. You wouldn’t let it.. would you?” There’s a note of uncertainty in Derek’s voice which just about kills Stiles, that he can put it there is devastating.

He walks to Derek’s side and grabs his hand and looks into those intensely burning blue eyes, knowing that his wolf is holding his breath.

“Never.”

“Great. That’s settled.. finally.” Peter spreads his arms out and with a flourish motions to the front door. “Welcome to our new home.” Derek doesn’t move, holding Stiles hand and keeping him on his far side away from Peter.

“Seriously.. alright I’ll go first. God forbid I should have your back.” Peter steps through the doorway, before abruptly poking his head back out. “You should carry him across the threshold.. it’s tradition.”

“We’re not married.” Stiles frowns at the older wolf, who shoots him a dazzling smile. Really, this family is genetically blessed or something because they are all ridiculously good-looking, even the weirdo Uncle that nobody really likes, but has to invite to family functions and everyones’ really upset because he actually shows up.

“Close enough.” Peter disappears inside. 

“Engaged.”

“What?” Stiles tugs at the hand that’s clasping his tight. Derek’s not looking at him. “No hiding remember.”

Derek huffs out a resigned breath, as he looks at Stiles from underneath his brows of doom. “It’s more like we’re engaged than married.”

“Oh.. oh.” Surprisingly, Stiles feels okay about this. Engagements can last as long as either of them want. “Okay.”

“It’s when we have sex and knot for the first time that we’ll be essentially married.” Derek frowns as he sees Stiles start to sway.

“Derek.” Stiles feels lightheaded. “Eighteen.” He mumbles over and over, because he realises that when he turns 18 in a couple of months, when he and Derek finally get together and there is no doubt in his mind that they will, their engagement will be over and he will be married/mated to his wolf. Forever.

Holy shit. He’s gonna be a teen bride. At least he won’t be knocked up as well.

Did he say that out loud? Because Derek’s got this look in his eye and Stiles is struggling to work out what it means. It’s not like a WTF are you talking about you idiot. Derek’s silently begging for understanding. He holds Stiles hand tighter as though he’s worried that once he works it out he’s going to run away.

Stiles likes to think he’s reasonably intelligent. Okay he’s not dumb, but it still takes a moment for it to click that Derek didn’t exactly fall apart laughing when Stiles said…

“Holy fucking shit.” He tries to pull his hand away, but Derek’s obviously anticipated this because he’s holding it in a gentle but unbreakable grip.

“Stiles.” Derek tries to send a calming and soothing feel through the bond.

Uh uh. That is so not going to work on Stiles because.. damn it.. just because this is fucked up beyond all belief.

“When were you going to tell me?” His voice is sharp and reedy.

“I’ve been trying to tell you for the past 24 hours but things keep getting in the way.. like your lips, you running away, you collapsing, your lips again.” Derek’s freaking out. He’d hoped to have a calm and reasonable discussion about mating, particularly between true mates, a male werewolf and a human male. He sighs, what was he thinking? This is Stiles. Calm and reasonable don't seem to be in Stiles' vocabulary.

Peter pops his head back around the door frame, obviously getting tired of waiting and obviously having heard everything they’ve been saying.

“Really Derek do I have to do everything.. Stiles you can get knocked up as you so eloquently put it by your mate. Derek can get you pregnant. There see how easy that was.” He smiles benignly at both of them. “I personally can’t wait to see you nice and round with his pup or pups. Our family is well known for multiple births.”

“Shut up.” Stiles and Derek yell in unison.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek are both suffering as they try to deal with recent revelations. Only they don't realise that they are concerned about different issues to each other. Peter steps in to help smooth things over between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a new one to post. This took me in a different way than what I had expected, but I like it because it allowed me to have more Peter again. And who doesn't want more of Peter I ask??
> 
> Avunculicide - from the latin, to kill a maternal uncle
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for the kind comments and kudos - you make my day (and often my night as I type into the midnight hour).
> 
>  
> 
> Unbeta'ed - just 'coz I can

Stiles refuses to talk about it anymore saying he doesn’t want to ruin Derek’s first time in the newly rebuilt Hale family home. It’s too late. Derek is all too aware of Stiles standing over near the front door, where he’d only moments before stomped off to. There’s a divide between them, a veritable yawning chasm of misunderstanding and Derek is desperate to find a bridge.

He knew he should’ve pushed the talk he needed to have with the teenager sooner rather than later... he knows he gave Stiles a list of excuses why it didn’t happen, he just didn’t tell him the most important one. That he’s scared to death. 

Derek’s terrified that, if he hasn’t already, he’s going to botch things so badly with Stiles that the younger man will just walk away from him. Turn his back and never look back at the heartbroken wolf he’d leave behind. Instinctively, he knows it’s something from which he’d never recover.

He’d been so scared that if he told Stiles he could become pregnant that it would be over before it even began, so he’d kept telling himself that next time they would talk, which became the time after that and so on and so on.

Now he can barely get Stiles to even look at him, let alone talk to him. He thumps his head against the porch post he’s leaning against, the pain’s curiously grounding. He looks out across the grounds to the forest under the blanket of stars that almost appear to pinwheel overhead.

He’s stopped trying to use their bond, he took a quick peek but seeing the gold threads unravelling around the blue just about killed him to see it so he doesn’t dare look again. Derek can feel Stiles has clamped it down at his end. Not a final severance, which at this point wouldn’t kill him because their bond isn’t complete yet, but it would still be very, very painful and Stiles isn’t that cruel. He’s left enough open in their conduit that a trickle of emotion can get through. That trickle from Stiles is full of hurt and betrayal. Derek can scent rotten oranges and rancid chocolate.

It makes Derek feel sick. His stomach is rolling and he can feel sweat trickle down the length of his spine and it feels like ice water. Derek’s vision goes blurry and he realises that his eyes are overly moist. They’re not tears and damn it, no he’s not crying. He just wants his Stiles back. 

The Stiles who for that brief shining moment in the Camaro had radiated such happiness that Derek had been dazzled and blinded by him.

Stiles stands by the open front door that he so lovingly painted a rich green only a fortnight ago. Golden light from inside the house spilling onto the porch and his feet. He rocks back and forth on his heels, idly noticing yet another hole has appeared in his ‘Batman’ Converses. He’ll have to check the net for another pair. Wishes that it would be just as easy to fix the gaping hole that has settled in his chest.

Derek is behind him looking out into the night, they’re only 10 feet apart and it may as well be from one side of the universe to the other. Stiles can’t look at him otherwise he’d cave and be all over him. It’s strange how his presence is so soothing to Stiles and at the same time such a torment. God, how he loves him. Loves him so much, but he just can’t.. just can’t believe that Derek didn’t tell him such an important facet of their relationship. Stiles can kill Derek. 

He’s afraid, can feel fear pooling low in his gut and it sends out tentacles of ice that spread throughout his body. What if they have an argument? What if he loses control? Stiles told Derek that he’d never cut their tie, but what they have between them is so wild and emotional that Stiles feels like he loses control a lot of the time. Be honest, he tells himself, he loses control all of the time whenever his wolf is near. 

They are each other’s weakness and the frenzied feelings, good and bad, that they generate together plays havoc with any rational, sane thought. From one moment to the next it feels like they contradict themselves, it’s just too intense, the crazed and mixed up emotions that roll through him, through them. Derek’s not immune either, sometimes he thinks it’s worse for him because all of his senses are so highly tuned. 

Stiles almost wonders if he should get himself checked for bipolar disorder. The heady highs, the gut wrenching plummeting lows he’s been experiencing. He’s balancing on a see-saw and it’s tipping wildly either way.

That afternoon, he’d had Derek bailed up against his car wanting to claim him and if they hadn’t gotten that text from his Dad, well let’s just say the neighbours would’ve had plenty to talk about the Sheriff’s kid and his escapades for the next fifty years.

In desperation, Stiles uses the very knowledge that he fears the most, to clamp down on their bond. It would drive Derek insane if he felt the fear that was crippling his mate, he’s already lost control a couple of times already within the past 24 hours and Stiles just can’t bear the thought of him hurting anymore because of him. 

Would Stiles have the strength to cut the tie and leave Derek if he was a threat to him? He just didn’t know and he only had two months until his birthday to decide.

From the moment he did it though, it feels like he’s got an open wound in his chest, a cannonball size hole and he feels.. incomplete. It hurts.

“Damn it.. Stiles.” Derek’s voice is low and urgent, talking into his ear. Hot breath against the sensitive skin of his ear and cheek, it makes him shudder. Stiles knows Derek’s whispering to pretend they have some semblance of privacy while Peter is lurking.. around.. somewhere.. oh who the hell knew where the little creeper was. 

Stiles can’t help the way his body reacts to having Derek so close. He snuck up on him so at least that could account for the way his heartbeat jumps and skips. But, not the suddenly dry mouth and trembling hands. 

He’s not touching him at any point, but Stiles can feel him. He’s standing right behind him. All it would take is for Stiles to lean back.. ever so slightly and.. fuck.. It’s like Derek’s aura.. lifeforce whatever you want to call it is pushing into Stiles’. He can feel his body heat radiating towards him, although it’s not as hot as it usually is, it still feels like he’s being wrapped in a warm blanket though.

“Don’t do this. Please.. don’t shut me out.” His voice cracks. “I’m sorry I should’ve told you. I wanted to but I.. I couldn’t.” Stiles is so still, it’s like talking to a statue, except Derek can see his pulse throbbing against the delicate, too vulnerable skin of his neck. 

The neck that Derek’s desperate to put his face against and just breathe in his mate, draw his normal scent into his lungs. There are times he feels that he wouldn’t need food or drink ever again if he could just have that delicious scent with him always. He has to fight the almost overpowering urge to lunge at the teenager. The need to gather him close and hold him is almost more than he can stand, but the fear that he would push him away or fight him off is stronger. He’s such a coward.

“Yes, you should’ve told me. My God.. how could you not.” Stiles hasn’t turned to look at him, just fiercely whispers the words back. “Derek I trust you.. trusted you to guide me in this ‘cause it’s so different.. I needed you to be honest with me.”

Derek’s heart plummets. He’s lost his mate’s trust and it’s devastating. He wraps his arms tight around his middle to keep from drawing his mate to him and selfishly getting as much comfort as he can from the feel of him. He rocks, back and forth silently keening in pain, it takes him a couple of minutes to be able to compose himself enough to speak.

“I was scared.. I still am.” Derek says, watching as Stiles’ head tilts, listening. “I thought you would turn away from me at the possibility.. and yet you’re turning away because I didn’t tell you anyway. I’ve fucked up Stiles I know it, but please not because I wanted to keep secrets or hurt you.. nothing like that.” 

He sighs deeply. “I just didn’t want it to end before I could have the chance to make you love me again.”

Stiles turns to face him, with the light from the inside of the house behind him it’s hard for Derek to see his expression.

“Of course I would’ve turned away.. it’s just too big a risk.. and I can’t.. my god.. what if it happened? It would kill me.” Stiles is trembling. “So you were going to make me fall in love with you and what.. spring that on me as a little surprise. You’ve gotta be kidding. That’s just cruel to both of us.”

Derek sways slightly, he feels nauseous. Hadn’t quite realised until right now how badly he wanted children of his own. More specifically, children with Stiles. A little boy with amber eyes or maybe a little girl with delicious chocolate freckles on her jaw. He grieved that they wouldn’t come to be, but there were other avenues, he couldn’t lose Stiles. No matter what he simply couldn’t.

“If.. if you wanted to .. we could adopt.” Derek’s talking so hesitantly, he sounds shattered. Stiles’ head is reeling.

“What the fuck are you talking about Derek?” Stiles voice gets louder. Not worried about dear old Uncle Peter hearing him anymore. He needs to work out what the hell their conversation has been about or at the very least what Derek thinks its been about.

“That we could adopt since you so obviously don’t want to have natural born children with me.” Derek snaps back. Anger rising in his gut and he’s trying to control it, but it’s hard when Stiles is looking at him like he’s insane.

“Who told you that?” The bewilderment in Stiles’ voice sounds genuine.

“You just did.. Stiles are you not feeling well or something?” Derek’s starting to worry. Has it all been too much for Stiles? He’s still recovering.. gotta remember that, even when he’s being snarky.. gotta remember he needs to be looked after. Guilt rolls through him savagely.

Stiles is pacing, nervous energy making him move restlessly up and down the porch. 

“That’s not the conversation we’ve been having. I’m talking about me being able to kill you.” Stiles pivots and turns. His hands gesturing wildly as he walks. “The fact that you could die is way more important than us having children. Thanks for reminding me, you didn’t tell me about the pregnant thing either, sooo not good.”

“Please stop. You’re making my head hurt.” Peter stands in the doorway.

“Go away.” Snaps Stiles belligerently. Derek just snarls at the other wolf, showing a hint of fang.

“Honestly, you two I’m starting to feel like you’re taking advantage of my good nature.” He leans against the door frame, looking like he’s intending to stay for a while. “I’m starting to feel like a couples’ therapist if this keeps going.”

“Couples’ therapist.” Stiles snorts rudely. “At an insane asylum maybe.” He mutters, giving Peter the evils.

“Well we’d all fit in very nicely wouldn’t we Mister Stilinski?” Peter chuckles softly. “Two young men suffering from PTSD, one of whom has been diagnosed with ADHD already and the other who is guilty of avunculicide and extremely bad judgement in his choice of girlfriends. As for myself… well I have issues but don’t we all.”

“Killing you does not make Derek guilty of anything.. except maybe not doing a proper job of it.” Stiles looks across at his wolf who gives him a disgruntled look. Stiles just shrugs.

“You speak latin?” There is genuine interest in Peter’s voice.

“I get by.” 

“For two young men in their prime with a supposed modicum of intelligence between the two of you, you are doing a terrible job at communicating.” He sighs loudly. “Maybe you should text or email, that’s what your generation does, isn’t it?” 

Walking between them, he gestures towards Stiles while talking to Derek. “He’s more concerned about killing you than about conceiving with you. However, you should’ve mentioned both to him from the start even though you were afraid you’d lose him.”

Turning to Stiles he gestures to Derek. 

“He thought you didn’t want to make little Stereks together and is therefore willing to give up his dream and adopt as long as you stay. He’s willing to risk being with you, even if you change your mind later. Love isn’t safe Stiles, it’s always a risk whether it’s emotional or physical. That’s it. Time’s up.” Peter saunters back to the front door, turning to look back at both of them, smirking when he sees they are both watching. 

“My diagnosis, you’re both so head over heels in love with each other that you can’t think straight. This session was free, but I will charge for any future ones that may be required.” Pausing, just before he shuts the door. “And you may not like the price.” The porch is plunged into darkness. 

Stiles sucks in a breath. “Your uncle is..” 

“Crazy. Don’t I know it.” Derek finishes for him.

“What he said though. Head over heels, huh?” Stiles lets his eyes adjust before walking towards his wolf. He stops just in front of him. The starlight casts deep shadows across the porch and across Derek’s face, so he can really only make out the white flash of teeth and the shimmering reflection of what little light there is in his eyes. 

“Yep.. only I can’t stop tumbling.” Derek is quivering, can feel the shivers running through his very bones.

Stiles sighs deeply. “You know you never needed to make me fall in love with you again. You didn’t need to win me again ‘cause I never stopped. I’ve always loved you.” Derek makes a small hitching noise in his throat. “I love you even now.”

Derek takes a hesitant step forward. Stiles loves him.. that’s good.. that’s so good. But, he feels so cold, light headed and sick.

“Don’t cut me offffff….” He pitches forward straight into Stiles. Derek’s a dead weight and Stiles can feel his legs and arms start to shake at the effort of keeping them both upright.

Stiles heart starts to beat frantically with fear. Oh my God. Oh my God. He’s dead.. he’s dead. Relief ripples through him like waves at the tidemark when he hears Derek make a small pained moan.

He does something he never thought he would do in a million years. He screams his name.

“Peter!”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's collapsed and Stiles is suffering believing it's all because of him. He has to journey back into his very soul and try and repair the damage to their bond. While in the metaphysical world he makes many discoveries but nothing compares to what secrets about Stiles' family Peter reveals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your kind comments it is appreciated.
> 
>  
> 
> It's going to be a couple of weeks before I can post again as I'm going overseas for a short holiday - think tropical beach, sunscreen and cocktails. I'm almost sorry to be going as I can't access my works for the duration, but still it might just recharge the batteries.
> 
> Unbeta'ed - 'cause that's just the way it is.

Light bursts onto the porch and Peter’s there beside him, almost like he’s been lurking on the other side of the door. Takes one look at Stiles struggling to hold himself and Derek upright and is easily lifting his nephew into his arms and effortlessly carrying him into the house. 

Ignoring Stiles’ flapping hovering movements he walks past the new staircase to the back of the house where he lays him down on one of the massive recliner sofas that are scattered around the huge cathedral like family room.

“What happened?” Peter asks while pulling back an eyelid and checking Derek’s pupil. It contracts to a tiny dot. Frowning, he lays the back of his hand against Derek’s forehead. “He’s cold. It’s like he’s gone into shock.”

Stiles has to check himself, pressing trembling fingers against Derek’s arm and frowns when he realises that Peter’s right. Derek’s almost cooler than a human being and werewolves always run hot. He can’t remember a time when he’s never felt the warmth that being in Derek’s presence normally brings.

“Have you noticed anything unusual today?” Peter asks and Stiles is biting his lip as he racks his brain.

“No. I sorta noticed on the porch earlier that he was cooler, he was standing right next to me but I didn’t feel it like the way I normally do. I should’ve said something then.” Blood spills into his mouth from where he’s bitten his lip too hard, the copper tang makes him want to vomit. Peter looks at them both for a moment, closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath. His eyes flash blue when they open.

“What have you done Stiles? The bond isn’t anywhere near as strong as it was when you first got here. It is from Derek.. but you..” 

“Oh shit.. shit.. shit. I closed it down..” Suddenly, Peter’s all up in his face and Stiles doesn’t know where to look.

“Why would you.. uuahh I don’t even want to know.” Peter growls angrily. Shaking his head in apparent disgust and Stiles couldn’t agree with him more. What has he done to Derek?

“I was afraid damn it..” He runs a trembling hand over the back of his neck and head, the very thing he tried to prevent and it’s happening. He’s killing Derek.

“I didn’t close it all the way, I left an opening.” Stiles grabs Derek’s cool hand between both of his. “You said when we completed the mating it could kill him.. not now.. not now, I didn’t think it would. I didn’t want him to know.. how afraid.. If I.. I should go.. if I leave will it give him a chance to..” Stiles is scarcely coherent. Rambling. He’s the one saying the words and even he doesn't really understand himself. 

“No. If you go it’ll get worse. He needs you here right now and he needs you to reopen your mate bond completely. Don’t hold anything back, he needs all of you.” Peter reaches out and grabs Stiles by the back of the neck, claws pricking into his skin and drags him close until they are practically nose to nose. Peter’s fangs gleam, white and sharp below eyes that are bluer and icier than any arctic glacier yet manage to convey a blazing white-hot fury.

“I won’t lose any more of my family Stiles, not because of your childish insecurities. You are mating a wolf, be worthy of him.” His voice is harsh and Stiles flinches at the home truths Peter’s telling him.

He looks down at the young man unconscious on the sofa and Stiles is shocked to see that Peter’s electric blue eyes are glistening. His face wears the most real expression that Stiles has ever seen on it. It’s a very human mix of regret, fear and a certain fondness. “He deserves it most of all.”

Abruptly, Peter shakes his head, it reminds Stiles of a dog shaking off water from its’ coat. Then the Peter he knows is back. Face, smooth and unperturbed. The perfect, urbane sophisticated mask back in place. It’s the freakiest thing that he’s seen Peter do and that’s saying something.

Peter easily manoeuvres Derek gently to pull off his black leather jacket and throws it onto an armchair across the room. Doesn’t bother trying to pull his t-shirt off over his head, simply extends his claws and slashes until it simply falls off him.

“What are you doing? Don’t we need to get him warm?” 

“Take off your shirt. The quickest way to get him warm is..” Stiles understands instantly where Peter is going.

“Body contact.” They say in unison. Peter flicks him a look and Stiles sees the smallest of smiles appear on the older wolf’s face. It almost looks genuine or as genuine as Peter can appear.

“I’ll grab some blankets. Come on hurry up.” Peter snaps out, before disappearing. 

Stiles rips off his hoodie and t-shirt in one movement. Thinks about whether to take off his belt and decides it might dig into Derek and hasn’t he already caused his mate enough pain tonight. Swiftly Stiles unbuckles it, drawing it out through the loops and chucks it and his clothes onto the armchair with Derek’s jacket. He holds his jeans up with one hand as they sag and gape.

His red hoodie and Derek’s black jacket look entwined together, Stiles feels almost wistful at the sight, maybe it’s foolish but it makes something inside him twist with longing. 

Toeing off his Converses, Stiles looks down at his mate. An unconscious Derek is a revelation. 

He’s too pale, but his face is so relaxed that it reveals what has lurked underneath the dark stubble that covers his jaw, he’s young. It reminds him of their first encounter in the woods, he’d looked not that much older than he and Scott. He'd forgotten that. After all the long drawn out battles they had fought, Derek just seemed to age overnight with the injuries and the losses the pack had endured. The weight of his responsibilities had made him seem so much older.

Stiles had always thought that Derek was probably about 25 or 26, now he revises that estimate down, maybe 22 or 23 tops. Something aches and grieves inside of him thinking about how much this young man has endured, always struggling to do the right thing.. always there for Stiles just as Stiles is always there for him.

What Peter said, it strikes a chord within Stiles. He’s been looking at this whole thing with Derek completely wrong. He’s been looking at their relationship with human eyes and certainly there is that component of human love in it, obviously from his side entirely, but there’s also the werewolf or wolf part and he’s not really understood the needs and hungers of a wolf mate. 

He’s researched wolves and although there’s a lot of contradictory evidence out there, the majority of sites he’s read tend to agree, wolves mate for life. There’s no ifs, buts or maybes and definitely no separation, not until death. Divorce is out of the question. Of all the people and all the werewolves that are in this world, Derek and his wolf have chosen him. It’s about time he acknowledged the honour that they’ve done him by finding him worthy of being their mate and start acting like it.

No time like the present, he thinks as he determinedly straddles Derek’s waist and hips. Settling his ass against Derek’s groin, it sends an uncontrollable wave of heat through him, which he has to tamp down fiercely so he can concentrate and not just melt into a big squirmy Stiles puddle of goo. 

Stiles cups Derek’s jaw, caressing the rasping stubble. A shiver of delight ripples through him as it makes his fingertips tingle. 

“Derek, come back to me.” He whispers. 

With his left hand he grabs Derek’s right and pulls it to his chest, covering it so it rests flat against his pec where his nipple peaks into hardness, he grits his teeth just barely able to ignore it. This is where the gaping hole in his chest lies, right where he’s always found his way to the mate bond. With his right hand he places it directly over Derek’s heart, feeling sick as he realises that the normally strong rhythmic beat of his mate’s heart is now a weaker more stuttering version. Fear that he’s going to lose him makes Stiles want to vomit so bad that he starts to gag uncontrollably.

Just as he’s positive he’s about to lose the contents of his stomach, Peter hurries back in, thankfully the perfect distraction, his arms loaded with pillows and blankets. He drops everything onto the neighbouring sofa, his eyes never leaving Stiles’. 

He walks up and looks intently at the ribs and collarbones that jut out so prominently, he reaches out but doesn’t touch, his long fingers hovering at his shoulder.

“Too thin.” He whispers sadly. Stiles finds himself strangely wanting to reassure the older wolf.

“Derek’s making me eat.” He shifts and reaches into Derek’s pocket, trying not to feel like he’s violating the unconscious man, and pulls out a protein bar and throws it at Peter who catches it and reads the label. Derek’s already made him eat two this afternoon, as well as a ham sandwich and a big glass of milk after his Dad left for his shift.

“Okay.” Peter nods and drops the bar onto the coffee table, quirking his eyebrow as he examines the way Stiles has positioned himself on top of Derek. “I thought this was about keeping him warm not giving him a lapdance.”

“I need to check the bond, see if it’s still intact.. I mean it feels like it is from my end, but Derek’s I dunno.. maybe there’s something wrong there.” Stiles can see Peter’s eyes are becoming increasingly wider and more incredulous as he talks. Stiles’ is getting more and more uncomfortable at his blatant scrutiny.

“Stiles.. are you telling me you can see the bond?” At Stiles’ hesitant nod, Peter continues more silkily than ever. “You can see your life forces.. are they linked.. connected in anyway?” 

“Yeah.. the last time I looked they were entwined.. my gold and Derek’s blue.. owww!” He yelps as Peter smacks him across the back of the head like a naughty kid.

“What the hell..?” Stiles scowls fiercely at Peter, not appreciating the not so gentle tap.

“Morons. I’m related to morons.” Peter frowns down at them. “You can pass that onto him when he recovers as well.”

“It’s starting to make a little bit of sense.. your mate bond isn’t at the beginning stages Stiles, it’s very nearly complete. With most of our kind we can sense each other’s life line but until the first knotting it doesn’t usually touch or link in anyway. And as for a human being able to sense it so strongly let alone see it.. it’s unheard of.”

"I'm not totally sure why this is happening.. there’s obviously something very powerful between you both. You’re bonding on emotion not on the physical. For wolves it’s.. unusual. Even for true mates.” Peter looks at him thoughtfully. His eyes focusing on the way Stiles is gently holding Derek’s hand in place, the unconscious stroking of his chest as he sits and waits for him to finish. It’s very disturbing to be so thoroughly.. assessed.

“Why didn’t Derek know? I’m sure he’s been able to feel it the same way as me.” Stiles can feel his forehead furrow as he puzzles it out.

“My stubborn nephew has not asked for any advice regarding mating and as you may recall, most recently wasn’t even in the same state for a number of months. He’d only be going on the little information that’s out there on mating and true mates.” Peter looks down at Derek and runs his hand over the top of his dark head, petting him affectionately. “Most of its rubbish. He’d have done better to simply ‘Google’ it. Idiot.”

Looking down at his mate’s face, Stiles thinks he looks paler than when they first brought him into the house. 

“Enough talk.” Stiles hangs onto his mate even tighter. He’s so ready for this, he needs to bring his mate back.

“You almost look like you know what you’re doing.”

“Of course.” He says lying confidently, knowing that Peter can tell he is when he quirks his lips and raises his brows.

Peter stands back out of Stiles’ line of sight, for which he is grateful, he doesn’t want anything to take away his focus from Derek and what he’s about to do.

Closing his eyes, Stiles looks inward to where he’s found that bond once before. A little whimper escapes him when he sees how dull both of their lines look. The gold thread looks tarnished and the blue one is simply washed out, not the brilliant electric blue he’s been used to seeing. They look like they’re unravelling and it breaks Stiles’ heart. He’s done this. Done this to both of them. If he’d only been stronger, braver. More worthy.

He’s weak and afraid. Never been worth anything to himself or anyone else. God, even his mother died trying to get away from him and now Derek was too… WTF. Where was all this shit coming from? Stiles looks around. There are more dark shadows surrounding him than he remembers. They’ve crept closer, they are indistinct and have no recognisable form as they shift and pulse trying to surround him. They radiate cold and fear, so much that Stiles just wants to curl up into a little ball and rock back and forth. So this is how Harry felt when facing the Dementors. It blows.

Stiles hisses and growls at them wanting them to stay far away, particularly from his mate who is so vulnerable at the moment. They are keeping their distance from his golden line, like it pains them, swarming all over the blue line until it almost disappears from his view. In the distance he can hear a howl and his wolf snapping and snarling like a cornered wild beast.

Anger and dismay rock through Stiles. Deaton had warned them of this, but Stiles hadn’t really felt any different, so he hadn’t thought much of it. Sure Scott and Allison carried permanent dark circles under their eyes, but so did a lot of high school kids. Too much homework, too many late nights, the normal angst-ridden lifestyle of a teenager.

This here, right now at the very core, the very heart and soul of him reveals exactly what Deaton was talking about. His heart of darkness. He screams his fury and frustration, his mate is in serious trouble, he needs to do something, anything. 

He looks out into the surrounding darkscape, Stiles can see it isn’t as completely enveloping as he first thought, he can see many pinpricks of light almost like stars. He’d never noticed them before as their bond lines were his sole concern. 

The pinpricks look sorta familiar almost like constellations, but it’s not that.. he changes his focus, like when you look at those posters that have a picture within a picture depending on how you’re looking at it. How you’ve got your eyes focused. Then he sees it. They look like many rivers of stars all flowing towards what looks like the biggest star, twinkling brightly, in his view. 

It’s the biggest and brightest one he can see wherever he looks, it feels like he’s in the ocean, caught in the current being drawn to.. to it... Holy fucking shit. Stiles knows what he’s looking at now. It’s the telluric currents that run underneath the entire town of Beacon Hills. He can see them with his heart and soul. They are rippling and flowing with energy, it’s strangely soothing, this is the earth's natural power source. This is natures' fuel.

The large star calls to him, not in words and Stiles isn’t afraid, all he can feel coming from it is pure chaos and energy. It feels like him when he hasn’t taken his Adderall. It feels like kindred. 

When he sees a tendril of green, blue and yellow stretch out from it to him, it’s almost instinctive to reach out with one of his own. He sees his thread of gold link together with the multi-coloured one, sparks flying from where they join and he’s almost immediately thrust out of his inward soul and returned to where his mate lies beneath him so pale and cool to the touch. He can feel energy bursting through his cells and rippling through their bond forcing it wide open so it can receive all the power that Stiles has tapped into.

Lightning cracks overhead making the roof shake and Stiles can smell the metallic tang of ozone. Beneath him Derek jerks, his eyes opening wide, as his hips drive upwards and Stiles feels like he’s riding one of those bucking bulls you see in the rodeos on ESPN. Although he bets none of those cowboys has to ride the biggest, hardest cock bulging beneath their asses. 

He clamps his thighs tight around Derek’s hips and grinds down, only then realising that he’s just as hard and aroused. It’s only through sheer determination that he’s able to deny what instinct is telling him he should be doing with his mate and keeps their hands firmly pressed to each other’s chests, they don’t even move almost like they’re glued on.

Stiles watches as Derek arches his back and tosses his head from side to side, his Beta side is coming out. Blue eyes blazing under his heavy brow, fangs dropping and razor sharp claws popping out one after the other in a deadly progression.

“Stiles.” Derek’s roaring out his name and Stiles can feel Derek moving through him. It’s not a breeze anymore it feels more like a hurricane now, the wild fresh scent of the forest fills his nostrils and the deliciously erotic sensation of fur rubbing him from head to toe inside and out makes him groan heatedly. He wants Derek so bad. It’s an ache, a pain deep inside him that grinds through his very soul and leaves him shaking.

Stiles goes weak, he has no strength and collapses on top of his wolf. He doesn’t intend to kiss him, but their mouths are just so close he can’t resist and he tilts his head and bingo. His tongue is sliding in carefully between Derek’s dropped fangs, even so he nicks himself but it’s so good that he doesn’t care and can’t stop.

With his eyes closed and mouth still locked to Derek’s, Stiles forges back into the bond he’d been thrust out of. He has to shield his metaphysical eyes, their bond is glowing, radiating with the heat and light of a small sun. The shadows that had been attacking Derek are literally melting away, blasted by the intensity. Sparkly ashes swirl wildly around him the remnants of the cold things that had wanted to latch onto their lifeforces.

Stiles rushes along the gold line until he sees where it joins with the blue. The threads have been repaired with green, blue and yellow ones, it’s thick and sturdy. He travels further until he’s solely on the blue side.

Reaching down he caresses that blue line and hears the yipping, joyful call of his wolf. He thrusts into it all the love, longing and apology for what he’s done to them both. The wolf is coming. Stiles can feel it. Getting closer and closer..

The wolf is here.

Stiles is standing in a green forest. Tall trees and green underbrush everywhere he looks. This is the place that he’s scented so many times before. This is where the wild, fresh scent of Derek originates from. It’s earthy, almost primeval.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees the bushes and grasses stir slightly as the largest, blackest wolf he’s ever seen in his life emerges. It stands there for a moment just looking at him, the stillness it contains within it is the most awe-inspiring thing he’s ever seen in his life. The wolf is one with everything and it’s seeking to be one with him he can feel it. It wants to be a part of its mate. When it springs at him, Stiles isn’t afraid.

Not even when he lands flat on his back with one giant black wolf pinning him to the ground. He meets its eyes and sighs. These are Derek’s eyes. His marvellous eyes that are no colour and every colour all in one. They are a myriad of colours that somehow reflect down at him as the most beautiful and unusual shade of green.

“Derek.” He whispers and the wolf chuffs softly at him in turn before nuzzling at his neck and licking him over and over, up his neck and along his jaw. It whines and whimpers in happiness. 

When Stiles reaches up and slides his hands into the thick ruff of protective black fur at its neck it shudders and collapses on top of him. The heavy weight forcing out an oof of air from Stiles’ suddenly compressed chest and lungs. All Stiles can do is hold the wolf in a fierce embrace. When he’s being drawn back uncontrollably into his real body back down their lines he’s still wrapped around the wolf who’s yipping and growling in excitement.

Opening his eyes, he’s looking down into Derek’s. They are his green ones and they shine at Stiles with the fiercest of emotions. He recognises trust and devotion and his heart squeezes painfully in his chest, thinking that what he did maybe doesn’t warrant such an outpouring towards him.

“Stiles.. my mate.. mine.. you’re mine.. always.. never be apart again.. need you..” The words come tumbling out of Derek’s mouth and Stiles can feel his cheeks flame with heat at the deep longing he hears in them.

As he watches Derek looks momentarily startled and then awestruck. His body starts to ripple and morph as he changes. It’s nothing like those hard fought painful werewolf changes you see in the movies with bones snapping, muscle and tendons realigning, this is effortless like a gentle wave rolling over Derek as he changes from human to full wolf. 

Black fur sprouts and ripples across his flesh, his mouth and nose merge together as a muzzle pushes its way out of Derek’s skull. His muscle and flesh shifts within his human form and his shape changes before Stiles amazed eyes. Stiles hurriedly moves back so he’s not crushing him. 

Although when Derek the big black wolf tries to sit in his lap Stiles' realises from his weight that he so did not need to worry about hurting his mate in this form. He’s roughly three times the size of a normal grey wolf and it’s all solid muscle and bone. The sleek muscular black wolf is the very definition of power.

He’s so big and solid, panting from the change. His hands tangle in his fur and Stiles can’t help but stroke and pet and smooth Derek. Who is obviously thoroughly enjoying being touched by his mate going by the keening and huffing breaths of approval that emerge from his muzzle. 

A long red tongue lolls out of his mouth, white fangs flashing and Derek gives him the hottest, wettest lick from his naked belly up over his ribcage and pecs, sneakily flicking out and lashing a hard nipple making Stiles jerk and gasp, before sliding up his throat and neck. Wow, it’s so hot. Surprisingly, Stiles only finds it arousing, not the potential gross out it could’ve been.

He wraps his arms around the wolf and buries his face in Derek’s ruff and inhales deeply drawing in the wild musky scent of his beast.

“I almost feel I should pay you for that performance.” Peter’s voice comes from the armchair to Stiles left, where the older wolf sits in an elegant sprawl watching them.

“I knew I should’ve courted you harder.” There is a serious note in Peter’s voice that makes Stiles shift nervously, because it’s serious and tinged with longing. Derek lifts his head and with his penetrating green eyes watches the human wolf and his lip curls back on his muzzle revealing gleaming white teeth as he growls, low and dangerous.

“Courted me.” Stiles lifts his head from where it’s been resting against Derek’s fur.

“Courted me..” Stiles says again, his voice is getting more and more high pitched. “Kidnapping me and offering me the bite is your crazy idea of dating.” 

“Of course it is. I’m a gentleman.” There’s a look in his eyes that tells Stiles that he believes every word he’s saying. It’s more than a little bit scary.

“Stiles, gentleman don’t kiss and tell.” He lifts a hand and examines his nails as though considering whether to get them manicured or not. “But, I need you to know something.”

The hair on the back of Stiles’ neck starts to prickle, an instinctive reaction to knowing that he is so not going to like what he hears from Peter’s mouth.

“Once upon a time I was going to ask your mother out on a date.”

That is so not what he expected to hear that when he hears a snort from the wolf in his lap, he looks into the wolf’s eyes and sees his muzzle is wide open in shock, he can’t help but think that they must mirror each other because surely his mouth is hanging open just as wide. 

“It was when your mother first arrived as our pack’s Emissary.”

“No.” Stiles says stunned, before saying with more certainty. “No. You’re wrong. My Mom is not an Emissary.. there’s just no way. She’s not a druid.” He shakes his head at Peter, denying what the older wolf is telling him.

“I’m sorry Stiles. But, it’s the truth. Not even your father knows the real reason why your Mom first came to Beacon Hills and she loved him, but she kept her secrets. Her's and ours. Your Mom was Talia’s first choice as her Emissary.. and don’t you think that doesn’t burn Deaton every time he remembers it.” He smirks as though delighting in the idea of Deaton’s nose being so severely out of joint.

“Talia, my sister and Derek’s mother, wouldn’t let me ask though. Said it wasn’t a good idea for wolves and Emissary’s to mix and that’s why Emissary’s were celibate. Particularly the ones of your mother’s calibre, natural-born. It’s a hereditary gift and I think after what I’ve just seen I know why Talia was so concerned.” He pauses looking at the teenage boy and the huge black wolf sitting watching him on the large sofa. “You can transfer your power to your mate.”

It takes a moment for it to sink in.

“Derek’s never ever had the ability to change fully into a wolf. Only a few members of our family could. Talia.. Laura.. it’s normally the gift of the natural-born Alpha’s.” Peter looks pointedly at the big black wolf currently pressing it’s weight into Stiles body, where it leans against him. Tongue lolling out the side of his muzzle in surprise.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Stiles swears, it’s the only coherent language that he can use at the moment his brain is so stunned.

“Stiles, your mother was a natural-born Emissary and I think you are too.”


End file.
